


The Wedding of Bucky Barnes

by stephrc79



Series: The Life of Bucky Barnes [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And love, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, I promise, M/M, Proposals, There's stupidity, This is the wedding story you all wanted, Wedding, Wedding Planning, a lot of it, and more stupidity, but trips down memory lane, for our two giant noodles, schmoopiness, seriously, there will be toothaches, you'll love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 67,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how an instagramming, trolling, pain in the ass got married to an equally annoying, artistic, bossy, stubborn blond oaf.</p><p>Or, you know, how one James Buchanan Barnes, Instagram Extraordinaire, married Captain America himself, one Steven Grant Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephrc79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/gifts).



> (Yes, I totally gifted this to myself. I worked damn hard on it. Fight me.)  
> ~~~~
> 
> This is a currently canon-divergent story set in the same universe as _[The Life of Bucky Barnes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3376088/chapters/7384379)_.  
>  ~~~~
> 
>    
> 

_June 26th, 2015_

It was like watching the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. These kids sprinting across the steps of the Supreme Court, cheers and screaming off camera, each one clutching a piece of paper like a lifeline. Bucky was entranced, watching it unfold over and over again on his computer.

An event that had happened _years_ ago, before Bucky had even come back to Steve, and here he was, hiding out in their office-slash-art room at four o’clock in the morning, watching the damn video loop like it was a live event.

True, gay marriage had been legalized in New York State years even before _this_ event, but the _significance_ of it being legalized across the country had Bucky transfixed to this six seconds of history.

Because, never in his life had he ever thought he would have had a chance like this. Because there was a _reason_ Bucky had pushed Steve towards Peggy at the first inkling of interest between the two. And yet, here he and Steve both were, more than a lifetime later, and Bucky was watching their chance actually become _real_ on a not-so-live video loop.

With a quiet groan, Bucky dropped his head down onto his arm against the desk. How the hell was he supposed to _do_ this?

He took several deep breaths to steady himself as panic seized his heart in a vice-like grip.

 _This isn’t news, you idiot_. The video wasn’t news, and gay marriage wasn’t news, and everything was commonplace now, and _none of this was fucking news._

Except. Except for what Steve had said to Sam on the phone earlier that day. Right here in this very room, when Bucky had come looking for him. In a conversation that had pulled him up short.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Sam,” Steve had said. “I mean, we've talked about our future, but you'd be surprised how many times those conversations _didn't_ include us talking about getting married. Maybe I was kidding myself about moving forward. What if all of this just turns out to be a big mistake?”

 _Marriage. Mistake._ Those words had frozen Bucky to the spot. He’d glanced around, that overwhelming sensation of being caught out making his brain seize up, though no one had been around to witness him overhearing Steve's conversation.  

Steve had gone on, completely unaware. “What do you mean, have I thought about it? Of _course_ I've thought about it. I —” Sam must have cut him off, and Bucky’d crept closer to the door. His heart had been ramming in his chest, but he’d kept his breathing controlled. Quiet.

“Okay, Sam, just stop for a second. Of course I'm freaked out. This _doubt..._ I haven't felt anything like it since he came back to me, and I was constantly on edge that I was going to spook him and he'd run. And maybe I _could_ very well lose him, but at least... At least then I'd know.”

 _Lose him?_ Why did Steve think he was gonna lose him?

Unable to breathe, the next thing Bucky’d known, he had his keys in hand and was out the door. It was a coward's move, but... All right, fine, _fuck,_ he'd panicked, okay?

He’d walked the not-short distance over to Prospect Park and had proceeded to spend the next several hours trying to talk himself out of a _legitimate_ panic attack.

Of course, Steve had texted him. Repeatedly. Bucky had only fibbed a little when he’d told Steve that he felt like a bad day was creeping on and had left to get some air. For all intents and purposes, it was true. Steve just didn’t need to know that he was the _cause_ of the sudden bad day.

Bucky checked the counter on the old vine video, and was slightly horrified to see he now accounted for almost thirteen-hundred of the loops. Okay, that was bad. He _really_ needed to go to sleep.

It took another hundred loops, but Bucky finally managed to crawl into bed. Steve was softly snoring, but that didn’t stop him from shuffling over and wrapping himself around Bucky. He always did seem to gravitate Bucky’s way when he slept, regardless of seasons or temperatures.

Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair before leaning in and kissing him lightly on the forehead. “I love you, Stevie,” he whispered against sleep-warm skin. “Please don’t leave me.”

He wrapped an arm around this man he loved _so_ fiercely, and pulled him tightly in. Held on and willed the ache in his chest to subside. He still had Steve in his arms, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose him over something as silly as a piece of paper that only served to change what they called each other. Not that he thought it would. Boyfriend or husband, Bucky would always just be his. Be Steve’s. That’s all that had ever mattered to him.

He cupped the back of Steve’s head and breathed him in — his beautiful man, sleeping so peacefully — and resolve settled over him. He knew what he had to do. He had to propose. Let Steve know he wanted it too, and rid Steve of all those thoughts of leaving Bucky because they weren’t moving forward. Let Steve know that Bucky really did want forever with him.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he continued, hitched, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I mean, you’re the romantic, not me. I don’t know how to...” He took a deep breath and pulled Steve in tighter, whimpering a little when Steve, in his sleep, did the same.

“But I can’t lose you. I _can’t._ So tomorrow I’m gonna do something great for you and ask you to be mine. Forever. To the end of the line, right, baby?”

He kept his hold firm, and finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, the sounds of _Steve_ helping to pull him under.

~~~~

“Hey, you okay, Buck?” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s nape as he took the seat next to him at the kitchen island. He frowned Bucky’s way, concern etched across his face, and the familiar ache that had crawled under Bucky’s skin barely four hours before made itself known all over again.

“Mhm,” was still all he could manage, even as his eyes drifted shut again. Fuck, he used to function just fine on two hours sleep. He’d gotten almost _double_ that last night, and yet it took everything he had just to take another sip of his coffee and not pass out from exhaustion. Truthfully, the only thing keeping him upright at the moment was the tiny bit of caffeine in his system, and the gnawing fear that maybe his days with Steve were numbered.

 _No, goddammit._ He promised himself that wasn’t going to happen. There was a way to fix this.

A thumb brushed across the hairs at his nape and he hummed at the sensation, even as Steve continued. “Are you sure, baby? What time did you come to bed last night?”

Bucky had to mentally go through the steps of lifting his shoulders into a shrug, and just hoped his nerves were firing enough to transfer brain to action.

“Sometime after four, thereabouts,” he breathed out. He cracked an eye open to find the creases in Steve’s forehead deepen further. “S’okay, Stevie. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, but you said you were having a bad day yesterday.”

“I _did_ have a bad day yesterday.” It was too early in the morning for this conversation. He took another sip of coffee.

“Did you wanna talk about it?”

“Tonight,” he answered roughly, praying Steve attributed his voice to lack of sleep. He turned and planted a tiny kiss on Steve’s frown. “You’re running late. Go to work, and I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

Steve pulled back in surprise. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No, I finished my mission report on Friday.” That was true. “And since I got no sleep last night, I figured I’d take a day.” Also true. “Just gonna relax and binge something on Netflix.” That part was less true.

“Oh, you want a couch buddy, then?” Steve asked, finally giving Bucky a smile, even as Bucky internally huffed in frustration. Steve kept going, leaning over to kiss Bucky on the temple. “You could curl up next to me and use me as a body pillow, if you wanted.”

Bucky _was_ exhausted, and god, that sounded so tempting, but... “Nah, that’s okay,” he answered with a shake of his head. A tinge of hurt flashed in Steve’s eyes, and Bucky sighed before cupping the side of his face. “You _haven’t_ finished your mission report, and besides, don’t you have a new crop of agents to browbeat the shit out of next week? You need to plan.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve nodded solemnly. “Can’t have anyone thinking I’m not the biggest hard ass since Peggy. What would the neighbors say?” Then he gave Bucky tiny smile, this one inexplicably shy. “But, you know, at least we have tomorrow.”

Bucky pulled up short, the mug halfway to his lips. He turned to frown at Steve. “Tomorrow?” He sludged through his sleep-addled brain for what tomorrow was supposed to be, but came up with nothing. “What’s tomorrow?”

A single eyebrow raised at him. “Uh... Our anniversary?”

Oh. Oh _shit._

Their phone call anniversary was _tomorrow._

And before hearing Steve’s call with Sam _the day before,_ he’d actually known that. But, in his panic, it had flown right out of his mind.

(At least he still had Steve’s present taken care of: A stone slab from a fifteen hundred year-old chapel in Italy that had collapsed during an attack on the small town it came from. Bucky had made a large donation to their rebuilding efforts in exchange for a piece of the original structure, so that Steve might be able to paint it. He’d asked for an eighteen-inch tile. In their generosity, they’d given him a five-foot-long slab.)

Steve sat up straight, frowning all over again, sad and deep, and Bucky winced at the real hurt he saw there this time. Grade A awesome, Barnes.

“Did you forget?”

“What? _No._ ” Bucky set his cup down so he could turn and take Steve’s face in both hands. “Lack of coffee, I _swear._ ” He quickly kissed the frown in front of him. “I promise, I didn’t forget.”

“You sure?”

“I _promise,_ Stevie. I wouldn’t forget something like that.”

Except for how he _had_ in the face of Steve suddenly being unsure about them. And here Bucky was, fucking up what they _still_ had, all over the place. His heart clenched all over again, and he fought to keep the sting out of his eyes.

 _Steve still cares about the anniversary_. _Maybe he changed his mind about thinking this was a mistake._

He leaned in and kissed Steve again. Put as much love and sincerity into it as he could. Sighed when those lips kissed him right back.

“So, go to work, okay?” he said as they pulled apart. He tried to give Steve a reassuring smile. “We’ve got tonight and then whatever you want for tomorrow.”

Steve gave him a sly smile. “Whatever I want?”

Bucky just shook his head and chuckled. “Anything.”

“Gonna have to hold you to that, Barnes.”

“I’m sorry, _what_ are you gonna hold me to?”

Steve laughed, low and delighted, before punctuating each sentence with a kiss. “Oh, I don’t know.” _Kiss_. “Probably the couch.” _Kiss_. “The bed.” _Kiss_. “The wall.” _Kiss_. “This counter.” _Kiss_. “Our desk...”

Bucky snickered against Steve’s lips before giving him a gentle push. “Go to _work_ already,” he scolded, only to find Steve towering over him, lips searing into his own.

“Tomorrow,” he breathed.

Bucky hummed happily. “Tomorrow.”

With one last kiss, Steve smiled and turned to leave. “Love you,” he called out as he shut the front door behind him.

Bucky sighed and stared at the door, the little bit of good mood he’d managed to muster leaving with the man he loved.

“Love you, too,” he whispered, then turned back to his coffee and drank it in one gulp.

He’d forgotten all about their anniversary the next day, had only been thinking something small and intimate for tonight. It wouldn’t be much, especially because he didn’t have time to get rings (or _a_ ring, he still wasn’t sure how that worked — he’d need to research), but he was hoping he could come up with something touching enough to win Steve’s heart.

But with their anniversary tomorrow? How the hell was he supposed to plan something around the most important day of the year for them? It had to be something worthy of a man like Steve Rogers, and for once — for the first and possibly only time in his life — Bucky had no idea what that meant.

~~~~

Bucky’s eyes flicked to the clock on the microwave. Two minutes since the last time he’d checked. Four and a half minutes since the time before that.

Steve was an on-time person. Always punctual. Never (okay, rarely) late.

Which meant he should be walking through the door in under seven minutes. Give or take.

And Bucky had been in a state of unbridled panic for the last fifty-three minutes. Give or take.

All day he’d spent working on an idea to propose to Steve. Idea after idea, and all of them he’d tossed out as complete and utter crap. Ideas unworthy of someone as special to him as Steve.

He’d thought about pulling a Monica and decorating the entire apartment with candles. But they’d binged _Friends_ not three weeks before, and _stupid,_ Steve was gonna notice that Bucky had stolen the idea.

He thought about writing a poem — some romantic gesture like that — only to laugh himself silly, because no. He and poetry were not things that mixed.

Then there was the idea of cooking Steve dinner. That had actually been the most plausible, since Bucky was no slouch in the kitchen. But, of course, it took all of ten minutes to realize that the four-course meal that _should_ have been ready and prepared for Steve was never going to happen on less than a day’s notice.

(He instead called their favorite pizza joint, which, ironically enough, was also famous for a burger on their menu — a burger that actually _sold out_ every night. Two were set to be delivered an hour after Steve got home.)

His eyes shot up to the clock again. Three minutes until Steve got home. And sure, he couldn’t be timed with a stopwatch, but it was a near thing.

Three minutes to go, and Bucky’s only solid idea for Steve had turned out to be _hamburgers_.

His breath caught in his throat, and he walked around to sit down, hard, on the couch, his head in his hands as he willed any idea of _tears_ to just really stay the fuck away for the next little while. He wasn’t going to be able to do this if Steve thought he’d been crying.

So _of course_ it was then that he heard the key in the lock. He stiffened as the door handle turned, only for his eyes to dart around the room because, oh that was right. He _had_ lit some candles.

_Shit._

Maybe they weren’t that bad.

“What’s all this?” came in from behind him, and he turned around to face Steve, whose gaze was sweeping around the dimly lit room in wonder. When his eyes landed on Bucky, though, whatever he saw made the smile drop off entirely.

“Hey, you okay?” He quickly shut the door and crossed the room to sit down next to Bucky — worry written all over his face as he took Bucky’s hand. “Hey, talk to me. What is all this?” He looked around the room again. “What’s going on?”

Bucky only then realized how freaked out he must look. Might have something to do with the whole _not breathing_ thing he'd recently taken up.

_Smooth, Barnes._

He took a deep breath and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“I...”

Okay, _that_ wasn’t promising. He took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried again.

“I, um, wanted to do something special for you.” He was pleased at how little his voice shook, despite how rough it sounded.

Steve gave him a tentative smile. “I see that. So what’s bothering you?” He brushed his fingers along Bucky’s jaw, and Bucky couldn’t help but lean into it.

“You... I...” He shook his head, because this wasn’t how it was all supposed to go. He should have been able to _do_ this.

A soft grunt escaped him and he pushed off the couch. Steve started, but didn’t say anything. Just let Bucky go as he walked around the coffee table to put some distance between them, maybe help clear his head. Then he rounded on Steve and jabbed a finger in his direction.

“You,” was all he got out.

“Me.”

“Yes, you,” he accused. Steve just nodded at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. Bucky began to pace again.

“You know, Steve, we’ve been together a long time,” he said as he walked the length of the coffee table. “If you want to get all up in the semantics of it, one could argue we’ve been together for the better part of a hundred years. And okay, maybe not _exactly_ that long, but long enough. And there ain’t nobody I want to spend my time with. Nobody.”

“Me neither,” Steve cut in softly, and Bucky stopped short to face him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but the shy smile he found wasn’t it.

“Okay, but then why did you...” He sighed and shook his head. “Never mind.” He waved a hand at Steve and went back to pacing.

“Back when you were sick and tiny, and we were scraped knees and a new fight _every_ fucking week, it was you. First...first, you know, you were my friend. But barely a blink passed and you were my brother — my partner in crime, or whatever we’d call it. But _then_.” He stopped to face Steve. “Then you were something more.”

Hands and head dropped as he took another steadying breath. When he looked back up, he tried to convey every heartfelt emotion beating inside his chest.

“Steve, it was _always you_. From the very beginning to when I fell from that train, it was you. Even when it was you and _Peggy_ , I knew I still had you. And sure, we talked about being friends till we got old — since us _together_ together wasn’t how things were back then — but truthfully I never believed I’d survive that war, so I was fine with whatever I could have until my time came, as long as I knew I had you, and you had Peggy, and there was happiness —”

 _“Bucky,”_ Steve whispered.

“Not right now, Steven,” he sighed. “I need to get this off my chest.”

Steve turned his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay, I won’t interrupt again.”

“Thank you.” Bucky gave him a shaky half smile and continued. “But then we got our chance, and we were now, and things _changed,_ but we were at least still us on some fundamental level, and we found our way back, and it’s _still us_. We were given that chance to see it through to the end.

“But then you go and start talkin’ that maybe that’s not what you want, because you seem to think I don’t wanna take some sort of next step, except for how I _do._ I just didn’t know if _you_ did —”

“Bucky, when did I ever say —?”

“Goddammit, Rogers, you said you wouldn’t interrupt me!” Bucky immediately regretted his outburst as Steve’s eyes went wide in shock. _Fuck_. He walked around the table and sat down on the edge in front of Steve.

“I’m sorry.” He took Steve’s hand only to drop his gaze, huffing in frustration, because why the _fuck_ did this have to be so hard.

He didn’t move until fingers tucked under his chin, lifting his head up. He met Steve’s eyes, another apology on his lips, only to be met with nothing but love.

“Continue,” Steve said softly.

Bucky held Steve’s hands in his own, kissing the fingertips. “So I guess what it comes down to is, here I am, spending all damn day trying to think of the perfect way to ask you to be mine, and the best I can come up with are some candles from fucking _Pottery Barn,_ and some burgers from Emily’s.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky cut him off with a, “Really, Rogers?” He narrowed his eyes until Steve clammed up again with a tiny smile. He took that as his cue to keep going.

“And all this” — he gestured around the room — “it all seems so _stupid,_ but it’s the best I could think of on short notice. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, that this is us.” He slid off the couch to kneel between the vee of Steve’s legs, held his hands tight, and prayed his voice stayed strong. “We’re stupid candles, and food from our favorite joint, and SHIELD, and saving the world, and your art, and my Instagram, and this home, and Brooklyn, and what I’m trying to get at is, will you marry me?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, air leaving his lungs in one quick rush. Bucky swallowed at the sensation of his own heart shuddering to a stop. The room seemed to close around him, and _God,_ when had it gotten so hot in here —

“Is _that_ what all this is about?” Steve whispered.

“Is that what all _what_ is about?”

Steve took in the room again. “All of this.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted in frustration. “Didn’t I just say that was what was going on?”

“Yeah. You did. Sorry.” Steve kissed where their hands were still intertwined. “Sorry, I’m not getting this out right. What I mean is, is this about not coming to work today? Or maybe even yesterday?”

“Yes,” Bucky grumbled, frowning. Then he turned hopeful eyes on Steve. “I know it’s stupid, and not well planned out, but I _do_ want this. I _want_ to move forward. I don’t want you leaving me because you think I don’t —”

“Leave you?” Steve leaned back. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

“Yesterday,” Bucky said, and this time he couldn’t help the way his eyes swam. “You told Sam yesterday that you didn’t think this would work if I didn’t want to get married.”

“Didn’t think it would work...” Steve let go of Bucky to take his face in hands instead. “Oh, baby, that’s not what I was talking about _at all_.” He wiped a thumb across Bucky’s cheek, swiping away the tears Bucky hadn’t realized had slipped out. “Is that what you think? That if you didn’t tell me you’d want to get married that I’d leave you?”

“Well...”

 _“No,_ sweetheart.” Steve sighed and slid off the couch to kneel in front of Bucky. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, pulling him in close. “You and me are forever, you got that? Married, not married, whatever. It doesn’t matter. This thing between us is something we’re seeing all the way through.”

Bucky was so lost right now. “But you said...”

Steve let out a soft chuckle. “I actually didn’t. Whatever you heard me tell Sam, I _promise_ you _,_ no part of it was about me _leaving_ you.”

Bucky sniffled as relief flooded through him. He buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck and held on tight.

Steve didn’t want to leave him. Steve wasn’t _going_ to leave him. He almost lost it at the sheer bliss of that thought alone.

“But, you still didn’t answer my question,” he muttered into Steve’s neck, redirecting the conversation as he tried to hold it together.

“Yeah, well, about that.” Steve stroked a hand through Bucky’s hair, hesitation in his voice. “Can I have twenty-four hours to get back to you?”

“What?” Bucky leaned back, heart lurching again, instantly suspicious. “Why?”

Steve just smiled at him before stealing a quick kiss. “I can’t tell you.” Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Steve, damn him, stole another kiss to shut him up. “Just trust me, okay? I’ll make the wait worth it.”

“Okay, but see, saying _that_ just sounds like maybe the answer is yes.” Bucky didn’t want to get hopeful, but that _was_ what it sounded like, wasn’t it?

Steve gave a half shrug. “Maybe it does. But I got my reasons for waiting.” Then he smiled that shy smile Bucky was so in love with. “Please?”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“Twenty-four hours.” Steve glanced at his watch. “Huh. Almost to the minute, actually.”

There was something going on there. And as much as Bucky wanted his answer now, he had to admit he was itching to find out what.

“All right.”

Steve’s smile got that much wider as he breathed out, “Really? You’re okay with waiting?”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah. I’m okay with it. But!” He poked Steve in the chest. “You better make it worth my while. And you _better_ keep me occupied. Take my mind off your insane refusal to answer.”

Steve’s laughed dissolved into something more — something heated. “Oh, I think I can manage that.” He leaned in to graze his teeth along Bucky’s jaw. “You said something about Em’s burgers. How long do we have?”

“Uh. Almost fifty minutes?”

“Perfect,” Steve growled against his skin. “Just enough time to work up an appetite.”

~~~~

Something wasn’t right.

Bucky’s eyes slowly opened to the dim gray of early morning. Just before sunrise, the light through the windows was no more than a haze against the skyline across the East River. He blinked a few times as he took it in. It couldn’t be any later than six in the morning.

But that wasn’t what was wrong. He got up early for work most days.

He blinked again and snuffled a little as he pushed himself up, rubbing at his eyes as he did. _God,_ something really felt off.

“Hey, Stevie, what’s —” His hand that he’d _just_ been stretching towards his boyfriend touched down on thin air and soft cotton. Bucky looked over, only to find an empty space next to him.

Fucking hell.

He groaned as he rolled over towards Steve’s empty space, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

 _“STEVE!”_ he yelled into the apartment, towards whatever direction the insensitive bastard had gone. “It’s fucking _freezing_ in here! Where the fuck did you — oh.”

He rolled back over to find Steve staring at him from the bedroom door, an amused expression on his face. “You bellowed, Your Majesty?”

Bucky frowned. “It’s cold. You left and it’s cold.”

Steve shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed, his smile still fond as he said, “It’s, like, sixty-five in here, Buck.”

Bucky gasped and pulled the covers that much tighter around himself. “And you _left_ me like this? I could have _frozen_ to death, you jackass.”

Steve snickered as he leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Bucky’s lips. All thoughts of vengeance seeped out of Bucky’s head out as a light tongue flicked against his bottom lip.

“I’ll always keep you warm, baby,” Steve whispered. Then he pulled back just far enough to brandish a steaming cup of coffee between the two of them. Bucky damn near melted at the sight of it.

With a dopey smile, he reached up and took the heavenly goodness. “Have I ever told you how much I love you and how amazing you are?” he asked as he closed his eyes to breathe in the scent.

“Not in the last thirty seconds, no.”

Bucky took a sip and hummed. “You were a rude asshole thirty seconds ago.”

“Well, it was either a warm bed or warm coffee.”

“We need a coffee maker on the nightstand.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You know, I think Tony has one of those? It’s some type of alarm clock.”

Bucky cracked an eye open. “Then why don’t _we_ have one?”

“Oversight on my part. Clearly.”

“Clearly.”

Bucky took another sip of coffee and caught sight again of the early morning light outside the window. “Mind telling me why you’re up making me coffee at bullshit o’clock on our day off?”

“It’s a surprise,” Steve answered, a little twinkle in his eye.

“And what surprise would this be?”

“Well, you did tell me to distract you until we hit the twenty-four hour mark. So.” He shrugged, a shit-eating grin spread wide. “I’ll be distracting you today.”

“I thought distracting me just meant a lot of sex.”

Steve kissed his temple. “Not today, Buck.” He stood and held out his hand. Bucky gave him one last glare before throwing the covers off with a sigh, and took Steve’s hand so he could stand up, careful not to jostle the coffee. Steve wasted no time wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Today is about more than just sex.”

“Is it?” Curiosity piqued, Bucky tried to sound cavalier, but he wasn't entirely sure he was all that successful. So instead he gave in and said what was really on his mind. “You know, Steve, you could save yourself the trouble and just give me an answer. You could do that.”

It had been eating at him since last night. He'd asked Steve to _marry_ him, and Steve _wouldn't_ _answer_. Felt this great need to wait until tonight. But the thing was, even if there was some big surprise, why not just put Bucky out of his misery and _then_ spend the rest of the day doing whatever it is he wanted them to do.

“I could do that,” Steve answered. “I _should_ do that, but, baby...” He pressed his lips against Bucky’s forehead. “Something tells me I’m not wrong about this waiting thing. And you promised to trust me on this. Will you, please? It’s so important to me.”

And if that wasn’t just the kicker. Bucky took another big sip of his coffee, his brain distantly registering that pleasant sensation of the perfect temperature. Then he turned to press a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck. “Whatever. You did promise to make it worth my while, so I’ll play along.”

Steve’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Just tell me where you want me and I’m yours.”

“Perfect.” He took Bucky’s arm to pull him along. “First thing’s first, you’re getting in the shower. Get cleaned up, then we’ll head out.”

“More coffee?” Bucky asked hopefully, his half-empty cup already making him sad at the loss.

“First stop, Brooklyn Roasting.”

“Then you get a pass.”

“Good for something.” Steve laughed before pushing Bucky through the open bathroom door. “Shower quickly. We have to catch the subway in thirty minutes.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Why can’t we drive?”

Steve shrugged. “It doesn’t work that way today.”

“It doesn’t work — whatever.” Bucky waved him off as he turned toward the shower. “You’re being really weird, Stevie, and for your sake, it _better_ all make sense!”

“It will, I swear!” Steve called out.

Bucky just turned on the shower and silently prayed he made it through the day with his sanity intact.

~~~~

They walked out of the apartment and Steve turned them toward the York Street subway station. Their neighbor two floors down was out walking her dog, and they both smiled at her as they passed. They stepped aside for a pair of early morning runners, and Bucky watched as some kid in a suit come bursting out of one of the buildings, bolting toward what seemed like their same destination.

“God, Steve, could you just picture us like that? A couple of young corporate suits?” he asked as the kid almost tripped around the corner up ahead. Bucky tried to picture the two of them, dressed up in suits and ties, going off to some nine-to-fiver in the City. He smiled at the absurdity of it — the idea of such a bland, _normal_ life — and looked over to find a matching grin on Steve’s face.

“Can’t wrap your head around it either, huh?” he asked.

Steve laughed. “No, not really. I mean, we _tried,_ as much as we could. You know, before the war.” He shrugged at Bucky, who nodded in understanding. “But, no. I don’t think that was ever us. Not sure we were ever the type.”

“You sayin’ we were always destined for this life?”

Steve turned them down Jay Street, and Bucky smiled as Brooklyn Roasting Company came into view. As they approached the shop, Steve laced their fingers together and stopped short so he could open the door for Bucky. A small touch of heat crept up Bucky’s neck and he ducked into a smile.

“You know, as much as I still burn with the idea of everything that happened to you, it might just be the _only_ thing I’d trade. I mean, there isn’t a damn thing from our past that I want more than I want to be with you here. Now.” They stopped in line and Steve turned to face Bucky. “I hope you understand that.”

Bucky leaned in and kissed him. “I get that, Stevie. Really.” He gave Steve’s hand a squeeze along with a sheepish smile. “Sorry for thinking you were gonna leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck. You _are_ my everything. How could I possibly give that up?”

Bucky shrugged as they stepped forward. “I guess, somewhere in the back of my head, I figured there would be _something_ one day, ya know? I’m not easy, Steve.”

A huff and a smile. “And I am?”

Bucky side-eyed him with a smirk. “Yeah, no, you’re not. What was I thinking?” He bumped against Steve’s shoulder. “You’re a bigger pain in the ass than I am. I’m amazed I put up with you at all.”

“It’s the blue eyes. I hear chicks dig ‘em.”

“And the abs. Don’t forget about the abs.”

“How could I possibly forget those.”

Bucky laughed as they stepped up to the counter, already feeling considerably better. Honestly, he _had_ turned himself into a wreck. And, looking back now, he had no idea why he hadn’t just said something to begin with. Hell, he had no idea why he even _doubted_ Steve in the first place. Steve wasn’t going anywhere, and Bucky, in his heart of hearts, knew it.

They placed their orders for coffee and pastries, then headed out towards the subway again. It was quiet when they stepped onto the platform, though it wouldn’t be for long. The F train headed right up the center of Manhattan, which meant in about an hour the platform was going to be a clusterfuck of people.

“So which direction are we headed?” he asked. “We going to Midtown or heading south?”

“We’re not leaving Brooklyn at all today,” Steve answered as he walked over to the southbound side. Bucky eyed the sign that said Coney Island, a tiny buzz of excitement creeping in.

“Does that mean we’re going where I think we’re going?” he asked as the train pulled up. “Huh, Stevie?”

Steve just took his hand again and gave Bucky a tiny smile in return. “Come on, baby,” was all he said as he tugged Bucky onto the train.

The train ride from DUMBO to Coney Island wasn’t a short one, and twenty minutes into it, Bucky was all but convinced that’s where they were headed. There wasn’t much of anything in between that would give them a reason to get off — least not that Bucky could think of. But Steve hadn’t cracked, was just sitting back in his seat, one arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders, as he slowly drank his coffee in silence.

Bucky, though... He _tried_ to keep quiet and not ask, he really did, but as the train began to pass through Kensington, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a disgruntled huff, he turned to glare at Steve. “Come _on,_ just tell me already. I know we’re going to Coney. There’s nothing else down here!”

Steve, the bastard, laughed as he gave Bucky a little jostle. “I’m not telling you, Buck, so quit it. Even if you _do_ guess anything today, I’m not telling you where we’re going.”

“So, we _are_ going to Coney Island, then.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, what you said was —”

He was shut up by the sudden press of lips against his own. “I know what I said, baby. But let me have this. It’s our anniversary, and...” He sighed and pulled back so he could turn and face Bucky dead on.

“Okay, here’s the thing. Despite what happened last night, I actually _have_ been planning this day for months. I got the idea for something really special for our anniversary this year, and frankly, I didn’t want it to happen in the aftermath of me answering your proposal. I...” He looked around, seemingly searching for the right words. “I want this to happen first. Does that make sense?”

Bucky laughed. “Considering I have _no idea_ what’s happening today, not really, no. But okay. I mean, you did say it would all make sense by tonight.”

“It will, I promise.”

Bucky turned back to lean up against Steve. “Can you at least tell me why we’re taking the train instead of driving?”

He felt lips brush the side of his head. “That I _can_ give you. We’re taking the train because neither of us had a car back when we were kids. We either walked or took the train when we had the money. So.” He waved a hand around. “Train.”

That definitely piqued Bucky’s interest. “So, does that mean today is about us? The ‘old’ us, I mean?”

“Something like that.”

Bucky nodded and took a sip of his coffee, now lukewarm. He crinkled his nose, but took another sip anyway. It was coffee. It was what you did. “You know, _when_ we get to Coney Island, you’re gonna need to explain to me why we’re there so damn early. You know, before anything is open.”

Steve laughed in his ear. “Oh, is that what I’m gonna need to do?”

Bucky nodded, very serious about this real problem he’d just discovered in a plan that may or may not be happening because Steve was an asshole who wouldn’t tell him things.

“None of the rides will be open, and Nathan’s will be closed,” he pointed out. “You know, for someone who _‘claims’_ ” — he made little air quotes — “to have been planning this for months, this actually seems like a very poor decision on your part.”

“Okay, but that would imply we’re actually _going_ to Coney Island.”

Bucky sat up to turn and face Steve, giving the saddest eyes he could muster because, if nothing, Bucky was a relentless little shit. “Are you saying we’re _not_ going to Coney?”

Steve laughed, immune, _apparently,_ to Bucky’s charms. “Stop trying to get details out of me! You'll know when you know, all right?”

“Asshole,” Bucky grumbled as he turned back around.

 _“Your_ asshole.”

“Damn right, you are.” Bucky nodded and took another — disgusting — sip of his coffee, resigning himself to whatever Steve had in store.

And maybe, if he was really being honest with himself, more than a little excited.

~~~~

“I _knew_ it!”

“Yeah, yeah...”

The train pulled in at Stillwell Ave, and Bucky jumped up before the train had even come to a full stop. Thank god for over seventy years of training, because he actually managed to not lurch forward when the train shuddered at the end. New Yorker, through and through.

He turned to give Steve a smug smile, admittedly more excited than he had any right to be, considering had no idea what was going on outside of being _fucking right_ about heading to Coney Island.

“Just say it, Stevie. Admit I was right.”

The doors opened, and Steve took his hand to lead him out. “There’s nothing to admit, Buck, It’s not like I was _wrong_ or something.” Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but Steve cut him off at the pass. “And before you say anything, this one was an easy guess. There may be a few places on the list today that you won’t get until we get there.”

They walked out onto the street, heading in the direction of the boardwalk. “Is that because they won’t be out in the middle of nowhere like this place is, or because my Swiss-cheese brain won’t pick up on it?”

Steve frowned. “Honestly? I hadn't even thought about it like that.” He turned to regard Bucky. “But I guess, no? No, I don’t think it’s because you won’t remember. Actually... I think you’ll recognize and remember everything.”

Bucky smiled at him, wide. “Really? You think it's all up in here this time?” He tapped the side of his head.

“You know I’d like to say I made sure of it, but Jesus, Buck.” Steve laughed. “It's so rare these days you _don't_ remember something, it never even occurred to me to take that into consideration.”

Heat traveled up his neck as Bucky preened at the accidental compliment. He doubted Steve realized what he’d said, but the way he'd phrased it made Bucky feel that much more like a whole person. It made him feel _good._

They walked all the way out to the edge of the sand. It was a gorgeous morning — a slight breeze, but not a cloud in the sky. Quiet and serene, this early. Just like back home, not much moving about other than them and those out for an early morning jog.

Bucky stole a glance at Steve, half expecting him to tell Bucky why they were just standing there, staring out at the ocean, not even dipping their feet in the sand. Not a peep came out of him though, and as comfortable as the silence was, Bucky wasn’t about to break it if Steve didn’t.

Instead, he slid his hand into Steve’s, lacing their fingers together, and leaning in so he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. He breathed in, tasting the salty brine of the ocean air mixed in with the woodsy smell that was undeniably _Steve._ The sense of home that hit him in that moment was almost visceral. Physically tangible in a way he couldn’t describe. More than Steve, more than Brooklyn. Some combination of the two that made him feel like he could grab on with both hands and never have to let go.

“Do you remember that time I almost drowned?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper even in Bucky’s ear.

“No, what —” _are you talking about,_ was right on his lips until something slipped into place. Bucky turned to stare out past the rock formation at the water’s edge — almost all the way out to the edge of the pier.

“There.” He pointed out into the water, suddenly seeing a blond head bobbing out of the water, only to sink right back down. He saw himself swimming, and felt a familiar rush of the panic that had swept through him as he’d tried to make it out to his best friend. “You’d swam too far out and your lungs seized up. I didn’t think I would make it to you in time.”

Steve hummed in affirmation. “Do you remember why that day was so significant?”

 _“Other_ than the fact that I almost lost you that day?”

“More than that.”

Frowning in confusion, Bucky turned to look back out at the water. He remembered getting to Steve, and grabbing hold. He remembered swimming back as best he could, his whole brain firing out only one thought: _Not him. Not him. Not him._ He remembered them taking Steve to the hospital, and Sarah meeting them there, and the _entire time_ Bucky couldn’t get the mantra out of his head.

And then it hit him.

“That was the day I realized I loved you as more than just a friend,” he answered with dawning realization.

Steve smiled at him. He placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s forehead, even as he untangled their hands so he could slide an arm around his shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you that my last thought before I passed out was how upset I was at the thought of leaving you?”

Bucky wracked his brain, but no part of that sounded familiar. He stared at Steve in wonder. “Not your mom?” he asked quietly.

“Well...” Steve gave a light chuckle. “Leaving her was actually my first thought. But, no. The very last thought I remember having before waking up in the hospital was of you.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why don’t I know this?”

Steve steered them back onto the boardwalk, and they ambled slowly away from the pier. It took Steve another minute before he answered.

“Because I thought my big revelation came later. It took me a long time to realize that it hadn’t — that I’d known then, too. That I loved you, I mean, even if I didn’t understand it. It wasn’t a matter of me realizing I couldn’t live without you — I’d always known that. It was the idea of you having to go on without me. That there would never be anyone in the world who would ever get you the way I did.” He scrubbed his free hand over his face. “And maybe that was selfish thinking on my part, but —”

“It’s true,” Bucky cut in. He brushed his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “Can’t be selfish if it’s true.”

“I guess.” Steve gave him a tight smile. “Just glad we both got a chance to tell each other eventually.”

“Not for lacking trying on your part, you ass.” Bucky huffed out a laugh before mumbling, “Always tryin’ to die on me every change you got.”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes, Buck.”

“I ain’t no ballerina, Steve. I’ll keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, if you don’t mind.”

Steve just laughed before taking his hand and turning them down towards Luna Park. They walked passed the little restaurants and Nathan’s, and continued passed the ferris wheel, turning down a side street leading away from the boardwalk.

A side street where Cyclone loomed large and imposing right in front of them.

“Uh, Steve?” Bucky eyed the beast as they walked along side of it. But then Steve glanced quickly back at him, a small mischievous grin and a tinge of excitement lighting up his eyes, and Bucky instantly stopped giving a damn where they were going — not if it meant seeing that look on Steve’s face. Bucky was too busy falling in love with him all over again, with the boy he’d known so long ago. The boy he’d promised to follow anywhere.

He stopped dead where he was and yanked on Steve’s hand, pulling him up short. Steve’s face bled into confusion, but he barely had time to get out, “Bucky, what is it?” before Bucky was pulling him in for a kiss, deep and full of the love thrumming through him. He threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, holding him in place, and smiling into the kiss. He was met with a light chuckle, and Steve was wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close too.

“What was that for?” Steve asked when they broke apart, a smile on his face.

“No reason,” Bucky lied with a shrug. He wasn’t sure if he could really convey what he was feeling right then, so better to keep it to himself. “Just wanted to.”

Steve’s eyes softened and his face dissolved into that tiny half-smile Bucky loved so much. He leaned back in to kiss Bucky again, gentle and soft. When they pulled back this time, he didn’t give Bucky any space, just touched their foreheads together and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve sighed before finally pulling back. “Come on,” he said. “They’re expecting us.” Then he pulled Bucky along again.

Bucky laughed as he followed. “They?”

“You’ll see.”

They headed to the ride’s entrance, at the corner of Surf Avenue, and Steve walked right up to the ticket booth window and knocked. A thrum of excitement passed through Bucky as an older woman came into view.

“May I help you?” she asked, though there was something conspiratorial about the way she smiled at them.

Steve winked at Bucky before turning to acknowledge her. He cleared his throat. “Yes, we’d like two tickets, please.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, that’ll be fifty cents.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve reached into his pocket and deposited two quarters onto the counter, and Bucky had to laugh, because right then, a loud hum hit their ears and the ride came to life before them. Shining lights where the sign lit up, carnival music playing as several empty cars finished their circuit.

His chest tightened and his eyes pricked, and to cover it all up, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Fifty cents, huh?” His voice caught, but he ignored it. “Shouldn’t it be just a tad more than that?”

Steve turned to scoff at him. “Anything more would be a rip off, Bucky. A _scandal._ ” He huffed as he turned back, grumbling under his breath, “More than fifty cents to ride a ride, I tell ya...”

The woman acted completely bored by this exchange, though Bucky didn’t believe her put upon expression for one second. He watched as Steve took their tickets and thanked the lady, before directing them over to the entrance. Another man was waiting there, and it took Bucky a second to figure it out, but he realized the man was wearing the same uniform the old park workers used to wear when he and Steve were kids. And now that he thought about it, so had the woman at the counter.

Bucky nudged Steve’s arm as they walked up. “Looks like we stepped back in time, huh Stevie.”

Steve turned to stare at him, perplexed. “What, to the 1800s? Not sure what you see, Buck, but last time I checked, we were right where we’re supposed to be: 1937.” He handed their tickets to the man, who smiled and nodded at him.

Bucky shook his head, because he _knew_ that year. He knew it was important in some way. That was when Steve had...

His head snapped up and he smiled at Steve, wide. He lightly punched him in the arm. “You gonna keep it down this time? Or should we bring something with us for you to throw up in.”

“No throwing up on my ride!” the ticket taker barked at them.

Steve shook his head, quick and mollified. “No, sir! We’re good this time.”

The man nodded once at him. “See that you are.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, delighted. They were right back to where they’d been, before the war, before everything.

And Steve was gonna actually be able to ride the Cyclone this time without losing it. Maybe. They’d see.

Steve pulled him along, aiming to get them on the ride and Bucky looked back, laughing and just really genuinely _happy_. “I’ll keep him in check!”

The man pointed at Bucky. “If he gets sick, you’re cleaning it up!”

“Yes, sir!” Bucky answered with a little salute.

 _“God,_ Buck, don’t embarrass me!” Steve shuffled them into the front seats of the first empty car. He slammed the safety bar down and turned to frown at Bucky. “I’m not gonna get sick!”

“Aww.” Bucky patted him lightly on the cheek and pretended to give Steve a once over, playing along like they were their old selves again. “You said that last time, baby doll, and we saw how that ended up. And from what I can see, not much has changed.”

“I’m not gonna be sick,” Steve repeated, resolutely. “And no idea what you’re talking about, with this ‘last time’ nonsense. Never been on this ride before. But I can take it, you just watch.” He folded his arms and faced forward, pouting. It was everything Bucky could do not to kiss the look right off his face — just as stubborn as he’d been almost eighty years ago.

The ride lurched forward and headed up towards the first major drop, and Bucky took Steve’s hand, because super soldier or not, he could admit he still got a little thrill from this damn ride.

With every click upward, Bucky’s heart beat just a little bit faster in anticipation, and right as they reached the ‘REMAIN SEATED’ sign, they turned to smile at each other before the world dropped out from underneath them.

~~~~

They rode the Cyclone for an hour, and Steve, bless him didn’t get sick once.  Not that he would. Truth was, they’d ridden it tons of times in this century — been to Coney Island countless times since Bucky had come back. But, because Steve had told him after the first pass that he’d actually reserved the ride for an hour, Bucky had taken that for the challenge it was, and spent the whole time razzing Steve.

They were on the subway again, heading Steve-only-knew where. Bucky was wrapped up in Steve’s arms again, and he sighed, content, as he watched the world slide by. The train kept pulling into stops, one after the other, but Steve made no move to get off, though Bucky didn’t expect he would. If wherever they were going was anything like that short-but-emotional trip to Coney, they didn’t have anything down in Bensonhurst or Borough Park, other than a few of Bucky’s old girlfriends. And he was pretty sure that _wasn’t_ something Steve wanted to revisit.

As they pulled into the 15th St/Prospect Park stop, Steve finally gave him a little nudge and a quick kiss to the temple. “We’re here, baby.”

They walked out onto Bartel-Prichard Square, and Steve led them right across the street towards Prospect Park. “We’re park-bound,” Bucky said, stating the obvious.

Steve just shook his head without looking back. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Buck. No wonder you’re such a master assassin.”

“Better than being a master _ass,_ ” Bucky shot back. He was rewarded for his truly horrific pun when Steve stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned slowly to face Bucky, his expression wry. “Really, James? _Really?_ ”

Bucky just gave him his best shit-eating grin — all teeth and sass — before waving a hand in the direction they’d been headed. “I thought you were taking us somewhere, _Steven._ ”

Steve briefly narrowed his eyes before turning back and pulling him along. Bucky barely heard it when he grumbled, “Should take you _home_ after that embarrassment of words...”

They passed the open field where dogs were playing, chasing after toys and each other. Bucky wondered why Clint never came by here when the place was in pseudo dog park mode. It was a perfect spot for Lucky to stretch his legs and play. Though, if even one dog took a shining to Lucky and Clint, chances were Clint would probably find a way to take it home. So maybe it was best Clint never found out.

They turned down one of the cobblestone paths, crossing over a little wooden bridge under a canopy of trees. They veered left, passing a section of the lake, until the wooded area opened up again and they walked out upon the baseball fields used for Little League.

Steve stopped them and sat down on one of the benches facing out onto all the diamonds, empty except for the early morning dew slowly burning off from the sun.

“Do you know why these are baseball fields?” Steve asked.

“I assume because it’s a good open space for something like this?” Honestly, he had no idea. “Lots of room for kids to swing wild and knock the balls all over the place.” He scanned the area, taking in the hard clump of trees on either side, creating a natural wall around the open field. “Also, from what I can see, there are very few points of ingress, which means some level of protection for the kids. The trees also offer another safety barrier from outside prying eyes.”

Steve chuckled and reached over to take Bucky’s hand again. He gave it a light squeeze before setting it on his lap. “No, actually — well not entirely — but leave it to the _master assassin_ to scope out things like that.” He shook his head and smiled. “Actually, the park is set up for little league baseball because of me. Or, well” — he gestured with his free hand between them — “us.”

Confused, Bucky turned to look out on the fields. “Us?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “All the books treat it like it’s about me, but really, it’s about us. I don’t know why we’ve never talked about this, but yeah. You see right over there?” Bucky followed where Steve was now pointing, out past the second field. “That’s where we used to play stickball when we were kids. Right over there is where Jerry Douglas broke my nose when he smacked me in the face with his bat.”

A rush of images hit Bucky all at once. Little Steve Rogers, all grit and fury, demanding to play with the rest of the boys. Pickup games after school, some lasting until neither of them could see their hand in front of their face. Steve and his many asthma attacks when Bucky told him to take it easy, and Steve being Steve, resolutely ignoring him. Blood all over Steve’s face and Bucky damn-near having a heart attack over the sound of bone and wood making contact with each other. Bucky’s mom and Mrs. Rogers lecturing the pair for about the hundredth time about not being more careful. Hell, even an image of Steve standing up — bandaged and bruised and indignant — trying to plead their case that Jerry hadn’t been paying attention, and it wasn’t even Bucky’s fault because he was in the outfield, and that was _nowhere near_ home plate, and he shouldn’t be gettin’ in no trouble when _Steve_ was the one near Jerry, only for Bucky to get yelled at for laughing, when really, he’d only been laughing because Steve shouldn’t even have been _playing_ catcher with his eyesight.

Bucky found himself laughing all over again at the mental images. _“Wow,_ god. I _remember_ that. We got in so much trouble that day.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, I thought that would be the breaking point of our moms letting us play together. Thought for _sure_ Ma was gonna tell me I couldn’t hang out with you anymore.”

“Nah.” Bucky knocked against Steve’s shoulder. “We were the worst trouble makers, but I think they always knew that we weren’t one without the other. But you were saying something about this park being because of you?” Bucky asked, redirecting the conversation back to earlier. He shrugged and added, “Which I gotta say, with your shit playing skills, I wouldn’t be surprised if this place is cursed now.”

Steve smacked him hard on the arm, only to grunt when he hit the metal one. “Ow.”

Bucky snickered. “Serves you right.”

 _“Anyway._ No, you dick. Apparently, sometime in the fifties, when historians began to catalog my life, they dug up how we used to play together here. Eventually they built these fields and christened them after me.” Steve sighed. “Rogers Fields, this was called.”

Bucky looked back out at the park. “You said _was_.”

Steve barked out a laugh and scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. After I came out of the ice and I found out about this, I was so horrified at having a part of the park that, as far as I was concerned, I’d been playing in only a few short years before, was named after me, well... Tony pulled some strings and got the name stripped. Something about how since I was actually alive, I had the right to refuse the dedication. They tried to fight him on it, but I think he guilt-tripped them and then made an endowment, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t let him give me the full story.”

Bucky stared at him, disbelieving. And sure enough, the longer he stared, the longer Steve refused to look at him. Yeah, Bucky _definitely_ wasn’t getting the full story. “Okay, but that’s not the Steve Rogers I know. I mean, Stevie, I _know_ you. You would have used that as an opportunity to educate kids, and you would have been out here every weekend cheering them on — hell probably even coaching them.” He shook his head, quick. “Nope. No way. You aren’t telling me something.”

It was a minute before Steve answered — a minute Bucky waited less than patiently, staring Steve down until he cracked. “Bucky, you gotta understand.” His voice was rough, hitching at the end, and he cleared it before he went on. “You gotta understand that, okay yes, you’re right about all of that. And you would be out here with me, doing the same —”

“You’re damn right I would.”

“Let me finish.” Steve gave his hand a squeeze. “The thing is, this all happened before I found you again. As far as I knew, you were dead. And every memory I have about this place?” He waved a hand out at the field. “Every _single_ memory has you in it. And I just...couldn’t.”

“Stevie...”

“This park isn’t the ‘playground of Steve Rogers’ youth’, like all the history books on this place say. There is no Steve Rogers here without Bucky Barnes, and you were _gone_ and I —”

Bucky shut him up with a kiss. He gently carded his fingers through Steve’s hair as Steve whimpered against his lips. Today was their anniversary, and it was supposed to be special, and _no way_ was Bucky going to let Steve break like this. Not over him.

“Stevie, shhh, it’s okay.” He pulled Steve into a hug and held on tight. “I’m here now, see? I was never really gone. You just had to find me.” He leaned back in kissed away the salt on Steve’s cheeks before placing another kiss on his lips. “You’ll always find me.”

“Always.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Steve nodded before finally giving Bucky a tiny smile. Then he placed his own kisses on the palm of each of Bucky’s hands.

“So what next?” Bucky asked.

“Well.” Steve’s smile grew just a little bit wider as he pulled away to reach under the bench. With a slight yank, he came back up with a long canvas bag, black strips of velcro running along the top. “Feel like hitting a few balls against me?”

Bucky smiled in anticipation. “Oh, this should be _fun._ ”

~~~~

It took one hit. One hit and Bucky sent the ball flying across the other _six_ diamonds in the park, shattering the bat.

Steve spun around to watch the ball go flying.

“Huh.”

“Oops.”

~~~~

It was barely eleven, and according to Steve, they weren’t expected at their next stop until sometime after noon. He’d expected them to spend the extra time playing ball in the park, but after the great Bat Shattering Incident, it turned out they had some time to kill.

So Bucky asked if they could walk around Prospect for a while. He spent a lot of time there, but as he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he and Steve had just gone for a walk — there or anywhere else. Just slowly meandering about, no real destination in mind, enjoying nothing but each other and whatever was around them. New York was such a fast-paced lifestyle; even for two men who tended to prefer being at home to being anywhere else, they still managed to get swept up in it all more often than not.

So that’s what they did: walking through the hidden treasures of the park, across stepping stones, through leaf-littered paths, and up and down wooden steps set into quiet little hills. They passed under bridges and crossed over trickling streams. They found hidden pockets in their bustling city and enjoyed the silence, save for the curious chipmunk or squirrel.

It was _pleasant._ And honestly, that was not a sentiment Bucky got to use very often where they were concerned. Their lives demanded so much more than that. And honestly, at this point, despite Steve’s non-answer that had set up a permanent home somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind, he wouldn’t trade their day so far for anything.

“We should start heading over,” Steve said after a while.

“Where are we going?”

Steve’s smile was distant and happy. “Ebbets Field.”

Now, Bucky knew there was still the occasional hole in his memory, but he _damn_ well knew there was no Ebbets Field anymore. “You know, Stevie, unless you have one of those blue box things you love so much —”

“The TARDIS, Buck.”

“Whatever, I —”

“You’d know if you actually bothered to watch Doctor Who with me.”

“Stop interrupting me,” he huffed. “Anyway, unless you have a way for us to _time travel,_ I’m not seeing how we’re heading to Ebbets Field.”

Steve just gave him a serene smile in return. “You’ll see, baby. I promise.” He then promptly turned them in the opposite direction and headed out of the park.

~~~~

As they stood in front of 55 Sullivan Place, Bucky could feel his long-suffering sigh deep in his bones. The source of that sigh was standing just to his right, all six-foot blond and annoying.

“Well, you’re not wrong about this being Ebbets Field,” he remarked, looking at the newly-replaced sign that hung next to the front door of the apartment complex.

1962  
THIS IS THE FORMER  
SITE OF EBBETS FIELD

“Okay, I’m at a loss,” he went on. “I know we aren’t here to catch a game, unless you have an old recording and want to listen to it on the front steps. And I’m also pretty sure we aren’t here to _play_ ball, since we just saw how well that went for us, and this has the added effect of glass and people...”

He finally turned to eye Steve, who was staring up at the building, hands in his pockets, not saying anything.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Steve finally said. “You know I’m not telling you ‘til we get there.”

“Fuck you, Rogers,” Bucky grumbled.

Steve shrugged. “Maybe later.”

He led them inside and Bucky looked around as they headed toward the bank of elevators. A replaced front entrance and new coat of paint shined the place up, but it couldn’t mask its age, no matter how hard it tried. Bucky could only laugh, because seriously, he knew the feeling.

They stepped into an elevator and Steve punched the button for the eleventh floor. As soon as the doors slid closed, Steve turned, gripping Bucky’s hips, and crowded him up against the wall. Their lips met and Bucky immediately felt the air rush out of him at having Steve in his arms. All too soon, though, he was whimpering at the loss when Steve pulled back.

“I love you _so much,_ you know that?” he breathed into Bucky’s skin, placing another kiss just behind Bucky’s ear.

“Not any more than I love you.”

“Prove it.”

“Don’t make me fight you, Rogers.”

“I could take you.”

Bucky grinned, wide and avaricious. “What, right here in this _very public_ elevator? That how you wanna play this?”

Steve snickered and turned to place another kiss along Bucky’s neck, then whispered, “Some other time.”

“Gonna hold you to that,” Bucky informed him as the elevator pinged their floor, and he followed Steve out. They walked past a few doors before Steve stopped in front 11H, and gave a perfunctory knock. “Got a friend here or something?”

Steve shrugged, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Or something.”

At that moment, the door opened, and a little old black woman stood on the other side, a hand on her hip, glaring daggers at Steve. Bucky smirked as Steve seemed to visibly shrink at the formidable sight.

“Well, it’s about damn time you showed up, Steven,” the woman snapped.

“Oh, um, yes, ma’am. Sorry about that,” Steve replied sheepishly, and Bucky’s smile grew that much wider.

“Yeah, what did you _do_ , Steven?” he asked — only to have that glare turned right on him. Okay, maybe he spoke too soon.

 _“Oh_ , no. No, you don’t get to harass him. I see what you get up to on my television. Don’t think I don’t know you are _just_ as bad as he is!”

“Okay, but _seriously_ ,” he whispered to Steve out of the side of his mouth. “What _did_ you do?”

“He’s thirty minutes late, is what he did!”

Steve was _what?_ Bucky looked at him in shock. He was never late for _anything._ Not that kind of late, anyway. He glanced back and forth between the old woman and Steve, and then it dawned on him. _Oh._

His shoulders sagged. “Oh, well, ma’am, that’s actually my fault...”

“Your fault,” she parroted back.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yes. See, we got done with our last thing early because I broke a bat, so I asked Steve if we could walk around Prospect for a while.”

She folded her arms across her chest, and the look she gave him reminded him eerily of Natasha when she was going after a piece of information. “So, what you’re telling me is, not only did you commit vandalism, you held up your sweet boyfriend here from this very full day he has planned for you? Is that what I’m hearing?”

He cleared his throat again. “It would seem so, yes.”

She pivoted to face Steve. “And _this_ is who you want to —” She stopped at the quick fearful shake of Steve’s head, and Bucky couldn’t help but tilt his head curiously at the movement. Before he could question it, though, the woman took a deep breath and kept going. “Well. I guess that’s not for me to worry about, then.” She shook her head at Bucky, all disapproval and displeasure. “To each his own.”

“Um, yes, ma’am,” Bucky murmured, completely lost.

“Are we still allowed to come in?” Steve asked.

“If you must,” she sighed and stepped out of the way, and Bucky followed Steve inside.

Steve stopped and turned to face her. “Mrs. Boone — oh, Bucky, this is Patricia Boone.” Bucky nodded and smiled with a quiet _ma’am,_ before Steve kept going. “Mrs. Boone, please understand that it was just as much my fault. It’s so rare that Bucky and I get to spend a few quiet moments together, just enjoying each other’s company. And even less time where we get to do that somewhere outside of our home. Usually people are stopping us and wanting to talk to us, but when that didn’t happen today, I just, um, let it go on.”

Mrs. Boone eyed him a moment longer before she seemed to soften a bit around the edges, and suddenly she reminded Bucky of old Mrs. Morris, who lived a few streets over from him and Steve growing up. She made the best jam in all five boroughs, and used to regularly give some to Steve in her never-ending effort to ‘fatten him up’. Bucky had loved her so much.

“Okay well, _that_ I can forgive,” she finally said. “And what have I told you about this ‘Mrs. Boone’ business? It’s Patricia or Patty or nothing at all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, _Patty._ ”

Steve gave her a small smile. “Yes, Patty.”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “That’s my boy.” Then she turned to Bucky. “And you, I’ll give you a pass too. But only if you promise to always take care of this boy here. _Clearly_ he needs it.”

Bucky couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or melt. Instead he held himself straight as he answered, “Patty, I made that promise to him when I was six years-old, and for every moment I’ve remembered him, I’ve never broken it. And I never will.”

She scrutinized him up and down before giving him a perfunctory nod. “See that you don’t.” He didn’t miss the flash of pride in her eyes, and Bucky puffed up a little at the look.

“So, anyway!” She clapped her hands together and turned to smile at Steve. “Your reason for being here...”

Steve perked up. “Yes!” Then he turned to smile at Bucky. “Our reason for being here. It’s a little odd, and probably took more work than I thought would be possible to plan, but yeah...” He took Bucky’s hand as he walked them further into the apartment, heading to her living room.  He stopped in front of the coffee table before turning back to Mrs. Boone. “Mind if I still move this?”

“Oh! Yes, yes.” She came over in a fluster. “It’s too heavy for me, so I was actually just going to wait till you got here. Figured you could put those muscles to real use.”

Both Steve and Bucky laughed, and Bucky decided in that moment that regardless of what was about to happen, they were keeping her. She was an absolute treasure, and no way was this going to be his only encounter with her. Not on his watch.

Steve pointed at the other end of the table. “Give me a hand with this?”

“Sure,” Bucky said. “There a reason you’re making this sweet woman rearrange her home?”

“Oh, you hush now,” she admonished. “I’ve been excited about this for weeks.”

“Oh _really_ now.” Intrigued, Bucky smiled as he and Steve navigated the table, setting it down near one end of the couch. He straightened up and smiled at his love. “Looks like you’re on, sugar.”

The blush that crept up Steve’s face was worth all the things ever. So was the tiny smile as he tentatively held out his hand. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

Entranced, Bucky walked over and took the proffered hand. They stood there for a moment, just smiling goofily at each other, in total disregard of Mrs. Boone watching them.

“So,” Steve went on. “Heading to Ebbets was probably one of our favorite pastimes when we could get there. Anything baseball, really. I think we first bonded over whether Burleigh Grimes or Jesse Petty was a better pitcher for Brooklyn —”

“Jesse won seventeen to Grimes’ pathetic twelve, Steve.”

“Yeah, but he also _lost_ seventeen, Buck.”

“You mean against Grimes losing thirteen? _One more_ than he won?”

 _“Anyway,_ boys!” Mrs. Boone admonished. They both mumbled an apology before turning back to each other.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “As I was saying, baseball was one of the earliest things we bonded over. But — wait, I wanna get this exactly right.” He turned them back so they were both facing towards the front door again. “Yep, this is the spot.” Then he stepped in behind Bucky and wrapped an arm loosely around his waist. “There was one particular game that was especially important. Do you remember which one?”

Bucky did, and he smiled softly at the memory. It was June of 1938, and the Dodgers were hosting the Pirates. It was slowly turning into a hot Sunday, and Bucky was complaining that they should leave, but Steve wouldn’t have it. Said they didn’t have money anymore for this and no way were they leaving. Bucky was still bitching when Cookie Lavagetto stepped up to bat. Barely one swing in and Cookie knocked the ball in a line drive right into the grandstands out in left field. And, Bucky noticed almost too late, right at Steve’s head. Steve was scrambling to get his glove on to catch the thing, but it was too late, so Bucky reached out with his own and snatched it out of the air, inches from slamming into Steve’s face.

“The home run,” Bucky breathed out with a laugh, and Steve kissed his shoulder. “1938. You almost took it to the face.”

“That’s right,” Steve said with his own laugh. “What could have been another trip to the hospital turned into such an amazing day. For several reasons.” Then he gave Bucky a tug, and when he turned around, Steve was smiling at him.

And holding up a baseball.

No way. There was _no way_.

He reached up and took the ball, turning it over in his hand. Then a quiet sob escaped his lips, he stared at it in awe, letting his fingers brush over Cookie’s faded signature from when they’d raced down after the game to have it signed. It was the real thing. This was _his ball._

“Where did you get this?” he asked, barely recognizing his own voice.

Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “Private collector. Actually, even _I_ didn’t know it was still out there until Tony did a little digging for me. And then, generously enough, bought it back for me.” Steve shifted and Bucky felt him stiffen. “But, um, do you remember why _else_ that day was important?”

Bucky just laughed, because _duh._ “Of course I do, you idiot. That was the day you kissed me for the first time. We’ve actually talked about that. Countless times.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I mean you just acted like you didn’t even remember the _game,_ so how should I know.”

“I remembered the game,” Bucky griped as he frowned down at his ball. “I just didn’t think _you_ remembered it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him, laughing into it. “Whatever you say, Barnes.” He pulled Bucky in closer. “Everything changed that day for us, remember. I mean, _god,_ we’d been dancing around it for so long, I was starting to think it was never gonna happen. But the way you were freaking out, first about catching the ball, then about getting it signed, _then_ about how — according to you — the ball had almost killed me, it was all I could do to shut you up.”

“And then, if I recall, we spent the next several hours shutting _each other_ up,” Bucky added.

“Yes, we did,” Steve agreed, his smile fond and knowing.

Bucky then looked around at where they were standing, confused all over again, because none of that explained what they were doing in this woman’s apartment. “So, why here, though? I mean, as nice as Mrs. Boone is” — he smiled at her and she nodded, an eyebrow arched — “it doesn’t explain _why_ we’re here. I mean, you could have given this to me outside.”

“Well, that’s actually easy to explain.” He turned Bucky back around so they were re-facing the front door. “Again, this took me forever to plan because it required several trips to City Hall, along with a lot of help from JARVIS. See I couldn’t remember our seat numbers, but after getting the full layout of the stadium, and running it through JARVIS, we constructed a 3D holographic model that I could walk through.” Then Steve stepped just off to the right of Bucky and looked down at the worn, but clean, floor. “And I can say, unequivocally, that we’re standing in the exact spot we were in when you saved me from getting intimately acquainted with that ball.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open. All the air left his lungs in one big rush. He glanced towards the door, down at their feet, and then back up at Steve. This... it _couldn’t_ be. Was this really the spot? Steve was smiling at him, and when he glanced over to Mrs. Boone, she was smiling too.

“No way,” he whispered. He looked down at the ball, then turned back to Steve. “No. _Way._ ”

Steve laughed and threaded their fingers together. “Yes way. Wait hold on.” He pulled his phone out with his free hand and tapped it. “Hey, JARVIS. How long did we spend on the Ebbets Project?”

“Two months, sir,” came the AI’s reply.

“No way,” Bucky repeated. He held up the ball again. “This is...I can’t believe.. _.thank you_.” Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he lunged forward and kissed Steve. Steve pulled him into a tight grip, and stranger’s apartment be damned, Bucky would make sure his gratitude was known.

The tears slipped free as he pulled away, and he sniffled. “What you’ve been doing today? In all my life, no one’s ever done _anything_ like this for me. And you should know, you were there for all the parts worth remembering.” He laughed at his own dumb joke. Looked up at Steve, whose eyes were just as shiny, and gave him a watery smile. ‘I just... thank you.”

“You’re worth all the good things ever, baby.” Steve kissed him again. “And plus, it’s our anniversary. You deserve this, _especially_ today.”

Bucky’s smile turned wry. “You’ve never done this on any of our previous anniversaries.”

“This one’s special.”

“Is that because —” Steve shut him up with another kiss, and Bucky let him have it. Between last night, and everything going on today, he knew where this was all going. He’d let Steve have this.

Mrs. Boone cleared her throat from behind them. They broke apart and smiled sheepishly at each other as she said, “As much as I enjoy young love, there won’t be any of that inappropriate nonsense in _my_ home.” They both turned around to find her glaring sternly at them. They both mumbled _another_ apology at her. “Now put the table back where you found it. You two have stories that I want to hear all about, which means you both are staying for lunch, and I won’t hear a word about it.”

Oh yeah. They were definitely keeping her.

~~~~

“You know, Steve, a car would have be _so_ much faster, right? I mean, I get that you’re all about recreating the past, and the past involved subways, but this bullshit is taking _forever._ ” Bucky tossed his ball lightly between his hands and crouched down in his seat as he watched the hundred-millionth station come and go. After what turned out to be a really nice afternoon spent on lunch and telling stories to Mrs. Boone, being stuck in the dark tunnels again was already grating on his nerves. It felt like years since he’d seen sunlight.

(Okay, it’d been, like, forty minutes, but seriously, he was a True New Yorker, dammit. Anything longer than twenty minutes was just _inhumane._ )

“Where are we going anyway?” he asked, grumbling as Steve wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

“ _Seriously,_ Buck? We’re on the 7 train heading deep into Queens. You know _exactly_ where we’re going.”

“I know nothing,” he lied. He stuffed his ball in his jacket pocket and folded his arms. “For all I know, you’ve gotten us sucked into some black hole, and now we’re on a continuous time loop, doomed to spend eternity riding this damned subway car.”

“Really. A black hole. In New York.”

“Don’t even _pretend_ we haven’t seen stranger things.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s at the World’s Fair site, anyway? I mean, besides the memory of seeing you for the last time as the man I fell in love with.” Steve stiffened next to him and Bucky mentally kicked himself. “I’m sorry. That was really mean.” He leaned in and kissed Steve’s lips until they yielded against his own. Satisfied, he slid back down into the seat, curling up under Steve’s arm. “I’m just grumpy at all the subway riding.”

“You mean being a _dick_ over all the subway riding, more like it.”

Bucky guiltily pushed himself further into Steve’s side. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

Soft lips pressed into his hair before Steve whispered in his ear, “Be nice.”

“Sorry.”

They rode in silence for a bit longer, watching as the 90th St and the Junction Blvd stations went past. When they passed the 103rd St stop, that Steve spoke up.

“You’re not entirely wrong, you know. I mean, that night _is_ why we’re going there. It was such a big night for both of us, but we didn’t know it, not really.” He pulled Bucky in even tighter. “I mean, that was the night —”

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky cut in and looked up at him. Steve’s eyes, lost a moment before, settled on him. “Save it for when we get there, okay?”

Another kiss, on his temple this time. “Yeah, baby. I’ll save it.”

It was then that the subway — _finally_ — pulled into their stop, and they got off, making their way to Flushing Meadows Corona Park. As they entered, all Bucky could think was just _how much_ it had changed since they’d been there in ‘43. The Mets played here now, along with the US Open every year. Not that Steve and Bucky were tennis guys, but he knew enough. He’d been to the park once in ‘76 on a mission, and it had been so decrepit back then; it was a shock to the system how cleaned up it was now. But then, that was just New York all over.

The sun was high, and it was still warm out, in the waning days of summer. The park was lush and green, rebuilt and remodeled for modern society. It was beautiful, really, if he was honest with himself. But all he could see were temporary structures, exciting exhibits, hovering cars, and to his left, a man small in stature, but big in heart and fierce in life, and everything good he could ever hope to love.

When they stopped near the globe at the center of the park, Bucky didn’t even have to ask where they were. It was the last spot they’d stood when they were both themselves, and he couldn’t help it: It was all overwhelming and it made him sad.

“Why here, Stevie?” he asked as Steve turned to face him. His own back was to the globe, and he knew they were standing in another ‘exact spot’ from their lives before. “You can tell me now.”

Steve took a deep breath and placed his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, his expression drawn. “Okay, so, again. You weren’t wrong earlier. This _was_ the last place we were both us. I was still small and still your little punk, and you were still happy —”

“I’m happy _now._ ” He placed a comforting hand over one of Steve’s, but Steve shook his head.

“Maybe happy is the wrong word then. Maybe innocent is better —”

“Please. We were _never_ innocent.”

“You gonna let me finish anytime soon?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Keep going.”

“Jerk,” Steve muttered, an affectionate smile playing on his lips. _“Anyway_ , this was the last time we were ever us. And here is where we said our goodbyes.” His voice caught and he slid his hands down Bucky’s arms to lace their fingers together. “I never told you that part of me, deep down, never expected to see you again. You were spending your last night with your ma and sisters, and I remember thinking, this is it. This is the last time I’m ever gonna see you alive.” Tears slipped from Steve’s eyes and he bowed his head. “And I should have gone after you, I should have —”

“Stevie...” Bucky couldn’t hold back his own tears and pulled Steve in, holding him as the memories washed over them both. “Why are you doing this? Why are we _here?_ This is obviously a sad place and —”

That’s when Steve pulled back and cupped his jaw. “But see, that’s just it. It’s _not_ a sad place. Do you know what it meant that we were here on _that_ night? That we were in this spot at that time? Don’t you get it?”

Bucky shook his head. He had no idea what Steve was talking about.

Steve sniffed and quickly kissed him before he kept going. “It was that last conversation we had in this spot that Dr. Erskine overheard. That was why he’d sought me out. The conversation we had is when our lives changed forever. If he hadn’t heard us, I never would have become _this._ I never would have saved you that day, and you would have died in the war. If it wasn’t for that conversation” — he leaned in for one more kiss — “we wouldn’t be here _now._ ”

Bucky was floored. He knew that Steve had met Erskine the night of the expo — knew he’d tried again with the recruiters and had met Erskine there — but he had no idea about any of this. It had never occurred to him to even think to ask.

When he spoke, his voice was rough and low, barely a scratch. “You know, I never said anything, but part of me had always been a little pissed that night that you _hadn’t_ come with me and the girls. I’d had plans for us afterwards, and I was so upset that you’d chosen another _fucking recruiting office_ over spending one last night with me. I mean, once you showed up in Azzano, I was grateful that you’d gone, but...” He barked out a strained laugh and glanced around at what had once been. “Yeah. I’d been pissed.”

“I know.” Steve gave him a wan smile. “It’s why I brought you here today. I know you get that the serum is sort of what led to us being here, today. In the now, I mean. But I needed you to know why _this spot_ was so important. I needed you to know that we didn’t leave each other that night. That night — as unintentional as it had been — was the night we made _this_ future possible.”

The look on Steve’s face was so open, so hopeful, it was all Bucky could do not to kiss him completely senseless. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said when he pulled back. “So much. And I’m so grateful for now. You got no idea.”

Steve gave him that hopeful smile again. “You know, I think I do.”

Bucky sighed and looked around, taking in the surroundings for what they were this time. A beautiful park, modern in almost every way, but one that held another huge piece of the puzzle that was them.

“So, what’s next?” He turned back to Steve, who just quirked a mischievous grin at him.

“Now we go back to the beginning.”

~~~~

St. Charles Borromeo Church was a formidable building that sat hidden in the beautifully tree-lined streets of Brooklyn Heights. A brick structure of solid red, it held a metal steeple in the center of the front facade, arched ceilings on the inside, and intricate stained-glass windows throughout. It was everything one would expect from an old Catholic church in New York.

It had also once been a school.

Bucky hung back while Steve spoke with pastor. But it wasn’t until the pastor smiled over at him, and he eased up a bit, that he realized he’d been holding himself stiff, worried what the man was thinking of him. After everything he’d done for Hydra, churches didn’t sit well with him — wasn’t exactly a praying man these days. But this place was different. This place had been theirs.

Steve came over, and gave his arm a squeeze. “Father Doran says we can have the run of the place, but we gotta be out in an hour or so. Apparently there’s a recovery group that meets here, and we shouldn’t be here when they get here.”

Bucky nodded. He totally understood. “Got it.” He then gestured to the room at large. “So lead the way, Cap. What do you wanna show me?”

Steve smiled, excitement lighting his eyes, and took Bucky’s hand, immediately pulling him to the side door that led outside. They walked towards the back, and it took one turn to the far back corner for Bucky to know where they were going.

The brick wall where they stopped wasn’t the original wall that had been there when Bucky Barnes had met little Steve Rogers — this one was built with cinder blocks and painted the same red as the outside of the church — but he would still know it anywhere. He turned and crouched down, leaning up against the wall.

“You know this spot, baby?”

Bucky laughed, light, happy, and just this side of incredulous. _“Know_ it? This is where I saved your ass for the first time.”

Steve scoffed as he dropped down next to him. _“Saved_ my ass. Please. What this _actually_ is, is the first time you stuck your nosey ass where it didn’t belong.”

“Stuck my...” Bucky punched Steve on the arm, deliberately going at him with his metal hand. He took great satisfaction in the way Steve winced. “You were getting pummeled by those two idiots, and if I hadn’t stepped in, my first introduction to your ma would have been explaining how I let her son get himself killed.”

“I think your Swiss-cheese brain is exaggerating what happened that day. I had ‘em and you know it.”

Bucky snorted. “Funny enough, those were actually your very first words to me.” He smiled drily at Steve. “You know. _After_ you spit on my shoes.”

“Love at first sight?”

“You know it.”

They smiled at each other, shy and new, like they were meeting for the first time all over again. Back then, when all they’d understood was friendship and brotherhood — trading blood and sweat on the daily — they’d been gone for each other. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry at how long it had taken them to actually do something about it.

“Do you remember the next day?” he asked quietly after a bit.

“You mean the way those two clowns tried to fight you for saving me —”

“Ha!” Bucky barked out, and pointed a finger at Steve. “See? _Saving_ you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve shook his head, and gave Bucky a tiny half smile. “Anyway, the way they tried to fight you... When I saw that, god, I saw _red._ You were my friend, and no way was I letting them beat you up for that.”

“You stepping in put us both in the infirmary that day.”

“Yeah, but it _was_ a _good_ fight.”

Bucky burst out laughing. Leave it to Steve to think getting his ass handed to him was a good thing. Crazy then, crazy now.

“I always knew you were an idiot.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” Steve answered. He took Bucky’s metal hand and kissed his wrist.

‘Hey.” Bucky bumped Steve’s shoulder. “Did you really know then that this” — he waved his free hand between them — “was a forever thing?”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment before he answered. “Well, I don’t know. I mean we were just little kids. I don’t think either of us really understood the concept of forever. But I do know this.” He turned to face Bucky and there was something new in his eyes — something hard and cold. It made Bucky shiver. “When I saw Marvin and Charlie come after you, something hit me, and right then, the _only_ thing I cared about in my tiny little world was protecting you. Saving you. And that’s never gone away, not ever. My greatest successes in my life were the times I was able to save you, and my greatest failures were the times I couldn’t.”

Bucky sighed. He wanted to point out that there’d never been a time where Steve didn’t save him, but it was an old argument, and he needed to let sleeping dogs lie. After all these years, if Steve refused to see that the train and everything after _wasn’t_ his fault, Bucky’s stubborn mule of a boyfriend never would.

Instead he said, “You being in my life has always been my greatest success. Meeting you, knowing you were worth keeping, and doing just that — best and most _right_ decision I’ve ever made.”

Steve stood up and held out his hand, pulling Bucky to his feet. “I couldn’t agree more.”

They smiled at each other, and Bucky had just begun to lean in to kiss Steve when Steve abruptly pulled back, making Bucky stumble.

“Uh...”

“We’re in _church,_ Bucky,” Steve whispered fervently.

“Sister Francine is too long dead to catch us, Steven,” Bucky whispered right back.

“Father Doran is right inside.”

“Pretty sure he knows we’re a thing”

“Ma would _roll over in her grave_ if we were caught necking at a church.”

“Caught necking... _Christ,_ Steven.” Bucky ignored Steve’s indignant squawk at the swear, even as he threw up his hands in defeat. He grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him towards the gate out front. “Fine, you weirdo. I’m taking you out front — _off holy ground_ — so I can kiss you properly, then you’re telling us what the next plan is.”

“Uh, dinner then one last stop,” Steve answered, tripping as he tried to keep up.

“Fine.” Bucky pushed the gate open and turned up the street, only coming to a stop once they were a full building away from the church. He rounded on Steve. “This a good spot to kiss you?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Good.” Bucky grabbed Steve by the jacket and pulled him in, crushing their lips together. He took advantage of Steve’s sudden gasp to slip his tongue into that open mouth, making his feelings on the subject of him getting shut down over a kiss perfectly known.

He also used the kiss as a chance to calm his sudden shot of nerves at the thought that they were officially in countdown mode to the twenty-four hour mark. The reality of it all came slamming back in, and Bucky now knew this was all leading to something _big._

Of that he was sure.

~~~~

They hopped off the subway at High St and exited onto Adams, where it was quiet, save for the small bit of traffic coming down off the Brooklyn Bridge on the other side of the railing.

Bucky’s heart was hammering in his chest as he glanced down at his watch. It was twenty minutes to nine. Nine o’clock was the twenty-four hour mark, and now that it was here, it was everything he could do to focus on where they were going, and not have a complete breakdown in the middle of the street.

Dinner had been amazing. They’d headed over to Hill Cafe, not far from their warehouse — a little place with good food and a quiet garden in the back. It had been hard for Bucky to eat, but he’d been desperate to keep Steve from seeing how nervous he’d been getting, so he’d ordered about five different things off the menu, matching Steve course for course, in hopes that he would appear just as calm.

And now his stomach was protesting in the worst way, but he honestly couldn’t care, not as they turned down Cadman Plaza. Steve had refused to tell him where they were going, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist (or a master spy) to figure out they were heading to the Brooklyn Bridge. Not once they’d gotten on the C train. Steve had done his level best to make sure they only took trains that day that kept them on their side of the East River, and considering how few stops there were from the restaurant to the waterline, there wasn’t really anywhere else for them to go that had mattered.

At least that’s what Bucky thought until they walked up to the entrance to the bridge.

BROOKLYN BRIDGE  
WALKWAY CLOSED  
5PM — 12AM

“Well, huh.” Steve frowned at the stand-up sign and police tape blocking the stairs up to the walkway. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Bucky snorted and flicked a hand over the tape. A little sign and some plastic ribbon had never been the kind of thing that had stopped them before. And frankly, there was _no way_ he was turning back now — not when they were so close. “This is the last stop, right? I mean, we aren’t letting this get in the way, are we?”

He gave Steve his best sly smile, not even remotely surprised when he got the same smile in return.

“Now why would we do that?” Without waiting, Steve moved the sign out of the way and ducked under the tape, pulling Bucky along. They climbed the stairs and headed out onto the walkway of the bridge.

Bucky held tight to Steve’s hand and looked up at the gorgeous night sky. There were only a few stars visible above the New York skyline, but the world above was ink-blotted in purples and midnight blues, softened under the glow of the city lights in front and behind. The Freedom Tower loomed large up ahead, the antennae a shining beacon. For a moment, it occurred to him that Steve had never seen the Twin Towers. He’d gone under before they’d been built and had come out long after they’d come down. Bucky’d seen them himself a time or two on missions over the years, and it was surreal to think that Steve had never known a world where they existed.

They walked along until they reached the first archway, where Steve stopped just on the other side. They leaned against the railing and looked out towards where the East River met the Hudson, and Lady Liberty was standing tall and proud. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and held him close, then leaned in to kiss the crook of Bucky’s neck and sighed. Bucky didn’t need to glance at his phone to know it was no more than five minutes to nine.

“You’re my whole world, you know that?” Steve’s words ghosted along the shell of Bucky’s ear. Without thinking, he leaned back into this man that he loved. Arms tightened around him for his troubles. Then Steve went on.

“I don’t know where you could ever get this idea that I would want a life without you. There _is_ no life without you. I should know, I had to live it for a time. See Bucky, here’s the thing. My past, my future, my _life,_ starts and ends with you. Honestly, I don’t remember anything before the playground. Sometimes I think I do, but then you’re there, and either I’m inserting you into those brief moments where you didn’t exist for me, or I literally have no memory of a life where you’re not in it. I like to think it’s the latter.”

Bucky listened quietly as the tears slid silently down his face. His heart was fit to burst and he had nowhere to go with it, so he just held on tight and took in Steve’s words. Let them wash over him like truth. He wasn’t disappointed as Steve buried himself in Bucky’s neck and continued.

“I brought you out here because this is the edge of our world. We have so many memories and so much life that we’ve built for ourselves among the confines of Brooklyn. We could have started a new life in the Tower, where things are admittedly much safer for us, but that’s just...it’s not _us._ We’re Coney Island, and Ebbets Field. We’re Prospect Park and schoolyards and all the other things that made our lives what they are. And I don’t ever want to experience a single second of any of that without you by my side.”

Then Steve turned him around in his arms before taking his face in hand. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks were stained in streaks, but there was a fierceness behind the blue that rooted Bucky to the spot. He wanted to surge forward and kiss him, but he also didn’t want to miss a moment of this.

“James Buchanan Barnes — _Bucky_ — you are my everything, and there is nothing more I want in this life or the next than to spend the rest of it with you.”

Then the sky exploded above them.

Bucky’s head shot up, and he gasped as the world opened up above him in a shower of red and white and yellow. Another moment later followed with greens and blues, purples and gold. The fireworks were breathtaking and never ending.

“Steve, what...”

Lips brushed against his and he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments to allow the kiss. He was too mesmerized to pay it too much mind.

“Baby, I love you,” came the whispered reply. “Just watch.”

He turned back in Steve’s arms, his eyes on the sky as it lit up around them. The colors were spectacular and nothing like he’d ever seen. There were _shapes_ among them — hearts and arrows and even one that reminded Bucky of Steve’s shield.

“Keep watching,” Steve whispered again.

That’s when he saw it.

_T_

He almost didn’t catch the letter before it dissipated into a swirl of raining stars. But he was sure not to miss the next one.

_T_

“Are you seeing this, Stevie?” He barely heard his own voice as he watched in wonder.

_E_

The letters didn’t make much sense to him, but he kept his eyes on the sky anyway.

_O_

Something sparked in his mind as he began to piece them all together. They weren’t spelling a word, but there was _something..._

_T_

His heart stuttered in his chest as it all began to make sense. He held his breath as he waited for the last letter he knew was coming.

_L_

A hitched sob escaped his lips and he barely noticed as Steve pulled away from him.

_T.T.E.O.T.L. To The End Of The Line_

“Stevie?” The tears flowed unbidden now and his voice was so tiny as he finally turned around, searching out his love. He found him standing there, hand out, with a small, dark blue velvet box in his palm. Etched into the top were letters in silver.

_T.T.E.O.T.L._

With a shaky breath, Steve dropped to one knee.

“Bucky. My love. My everything. We’ve been through so much together and so much apart. And that time apart is more than I ever want to think about. You are the center of my universe and my constant True North, and with this ring I give you the answer I wanted to give you last night had I not been planning this stupid thing for the last six months. Which is yes.”

He slowly opened the box to reveal a paper thin, black metal ring that shimmered with every explosion over their heads. He pulled the ring out of the box, but instead of taking Bucky’s right hand — his human hand — he gently slipped the ring onto Bucky’s metal finger.

“My answer is yes, Bucky Barnes.” He leaned over and kissed the ring, turned Bucky’s hand over and kissed his palm. Then he looked up, meeting Bucky’s eye. “If you’ll have me.”

This stupid man. This stupid, _stupid_ man. Bucky dropped down to his knees and grabbed Steve’s face, pulling him in and giving everything over in a kiss. He poured every last ounce of love he had into it, leaving no doubt that where he belonged was right here in the arms that encircled him. Because here was home.

He pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, huffed out a hysterical laugh. “Of _course_ I’ll have you, you idiot. Could’ve saved yourself six months of trouble. There was never gonna be a time when I _wouldn’t_ have you.”

“Well, you know me.” Steve shrugged. “Always gotta go for the grand gesture.”

“Don’t I know it.”

They smiled at each other, goofy and blissful, and Bucky was certain there had never been a better moment in his life than the one he was living right now. Not their first kiss or their first ‘I love you’. Not even the first time they made love — before or after. This was it. This was the absolute best moment of his life.

He held up his hand to examine the ring. Steve had clearly designed it to fit between the unyielding metal of his fingers. The way the light from above danced off the smooth black surface told another story, though.

“It’s made of a mixture of titanium, vibranium, adamantium, and crushed diamonds,” Steve answered, reading his thoughts. “It’s virtually indestructible.”

“Kind of like us,” Bucky commented, as he moved his hand around trying to catch the sparkle of the diamonds within the metal casing. Then he looked up at Steve and smiled. “It’s amazing.”

Steve flushed at the compliment, shrugging again as he said, “Well, I thought about getting a ring for your right hand, but I don’t know... I guess I always pictured you being able to wear one on your left hand. So I had this made for you.”

“Tony?”

“Have to say, the guy has an eye for this sort of thing.”

Bucky laughed and it was only then that he noticed the world had gone quiet around them. He looked up to see the smoky remnants of a fireworks display complete. “Tony again?” he asked, not needing to explain himself.

“He’s responsible for the bridge, too.”

Bucky snorted. “Why am I not surprised.”

Then Steve’s voice got small. “So we’re really doing this, baby? You wanna get married?”

Bucky looked into tentative eyes and he smiled. “Yeah, sweetheart. I really, really do.”


	2. The Plan

Bucky giggled against Steve’s mouth as he pulled him in closer, slotting a leg in between his thighs, and allowing him to press Bucky up against the wall.

“You know,” Steve began. “Our front door is, like” — he paused to worry at Bucky’s bottom lip — “ _right here._ We could” — he dove in for another kiss — “continue this inside.”

“Now what would be the fun in that?” Bucky laughed, and slid his hands up Steve’s back before tangling them in his hair. He slowly peppered kisses along Steve’s jaw, letting the hum he dragged from the back of Steve’s throat reverberate down to his toes. “Come on, sugar. Give us a show.”

“A show, huh?” Steve mused. “I bet I could come up with an idea or two.” And before Bucky knew what was happening, Steve hitched him up and slammed him back into the wall. The force was strong enough to shake their neighbor’s door down the hall.

They both froze, Bucky’s heart pounding in his chest in time to Steve’s. When they didn’t hear the telltale barking of the Pattersons’ dog, they both dissolved into nervous laughter. Bucky turned and smiled sheepishly at Steve.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we _should_ take this inside.”

Steve smirked, but lowered him back to the ground. “Spoilsport.”

As Steve fumbled to get the door unlocked, Bucky pressed himself up against Steve’s back, aching for any sort of contact he could get. The day had been so emotionally charged, it had left him spinning, and right now, the only thing he wanted was to stay as close as humanly possible to the man he loved.

The man he was going to bind himself to for the rest of his life.

Bucky glanced down at the ring on his left hand, placed there in the most spectacular fashion possible, barely an hour before. It shimmered like nothing he had ever seen, catching even the faint hint of light coming from the dimmed hallway fixtures. Paper thin and delicate, yet probably one of the sturdiest pieces of metal on the entire planet. Steve hadn’t had this ring made; he’d had it _forged._

Steve slipped forward as the door opened and Bucky immediately reached out to take his hand. Seriously, he had no idea _what_ was with him, but he couldn’t fathom the idea of not being in some form of contact with Steve for even the barest of seconds. He shut the door behind them before tugging on the hand intertwined with his.

“Stevie?” he whispered, feeling small and overwhelmed. So unlike him — but then, emotional rollercoasters were something he tended to shy away from.

When Steve stopped to look at him, his eyes were soft and open. “Yeah, baby?”

Bucky looked down at their intertwined hands, suddenly unsure of what it was he wanted to say. Instead, he turned their hands over so he could catch another glimpse of metal on metal. He smiled.

“Take me to bed?”

Steve’s smile turned sly. “Plan to.”

A gentle tug and he suddenly found himself once again with an armful of Steve Rogers. He closed his eyes as Steve’s lips skimmed along his jaw, warm breath tickling against his skin. He needed to _feel_ Steve, though, skin to skin, and wasted no time divesting them both of everything they had on, flinging clothes in every which direction. When they both were finally _blessedly_ naked, he hopped up, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, and captured his mouth for a long, hungry kiss.

They were getting married. Steve wasn’t his boyfriend anymore; Steve was his _fiancé_. His betrothed. His intended. His whatever other stupid clichéd words that said that Steve was going to be his forever.

He always knew they were meant to be together ‘til the end. Never thought they needed a piece of paper for that to be true — he’d actually never thought much about a piece of paper _at all._

But now, something about making it official sent a charge down Bucky’s spine unlike anything he’d ever known. Steve was _his._ Steve was going to _be_ his, forever. And they were going to stand up before God and Man, and tell the whole fucking world —

Oh. Oh no.

Bucky pulled back so abruptly, Steve stumbled from where he’d been carrying him into their bedroom. He frowned at the wide-eyed, suddenly _horrified_ expression Bucky knew he was wearing.

“Bucky? Baby, you okay?”

Bucky just continued to stare at him. “I...”

Steve slowly set Bucky down, his brow furrowing even more. “Hey, talk to me.” He brushed Bucky’s bangs back. “What’s wrong?”

It took Bucky a minute to find his words — a minute where Steve finally guided him back to their bed and sat them down on the edge. He patiently held Bucky’s hand — always so patient — as Bucky worked to collect his thoughts.

“Does this have to be a thing?” he finally asked, wincing at how stupid the question sounded.

Sure enough... “I’m sorry, what does _what_ have to be a thing?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “This,” he began again, waving a hand between them. “This _wedding_ thing. There’s no way this won’t make international news, Steve, especially not after the press gets wind over who was responsible for the fireworks show and all that. I’m sure it’s probably already all over the news.”

“Well, yeah...” Steve said slowly. “As part of the gala Tony threw.”

Bucky pulled up short. “I’m sorry, as part of the _what?_ ”

“The gala. Tony threw a benefit tonight at the Tower honoring war vets.” Steve shrugged. “We needed a reason to close the bridge and have a fireworks display, so Pepper offered to host an event as a cover, and I asked if she’d do it for veterans. I mean, we always say that war heroes today are overlooked too much. So, you know. Two birds” — he waved a hand between them — “one stone.”

“How did I manage to not know about a fucking _gala?_ ”

Steve snickered and took Bucky’s hand to kiss it. “What part of ‘I’ve been planning this for six months’ got lost on you?”

Bucky just stared at him as the words sank in. And the more he thought about it, the more he was completely unable to comprehend the _enormity_ of what Steve had done. Because, the truth was, the number of moving pieces involved had to have been endless. The staged trip to Coney Island, figuring out the whole thing with Ebbets Field, finding Bucky’s old baseball, and getting in touch with Mrs. Boone to set _that_ up, having Tony throw a party that probably cost a good six figures just so he could _close the fucking Brooklyn Bridge_ for a fireworks display Steve had _tailor-made_ for Bucky so he could propose under it with a ring designed _specifically_ to go on Bucky’s metal hand...

And it was at that moment that Bucky lost it.

He was already yanking Steve in for a hug when the tears came. It felt stupid, but he couldn’t help it. It was absolutely insane, everything that Steve had done for him. He knew Steve loved him — he knew how special he was to him — but this was just a whole different fucking level. It was _the_ grand gesture to end all grand gestures.

Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around him and he began stroking Bucky’s hair. “Bucky? Hey baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I love you _so much,_ Stevie,” he cried into Steve’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you did all this for me, and I just...” He turned and kissed Steve, hard. _“Thank you.”_

Steve cupped Bucky’s face and kissed him back. “You’re worth it, baby. You are _so_ worth it.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if that was true, but that didn’t stop him from crawling into Steve’s lap and pressing him back onto the bed. Metal and flesh tangled into soft blond hair, and Bucky gave himself over to the kiss, letting the night fade away as he slowly took Steve apart, showing him, inch by inch, how grateful he was to have him in his life.

~~~~

“Wait.”

“What?”

The truck lurched to a stop right at the exit to their building, and Bucky turned guilty eyes on Steve. He could _not_ believe he’d forgotten. Or no wait, he _absolutely_ believed that he’d forgotten, but still. He felt bad.

“We need to go to the warehouse before heading to the Tower,” he said, then pulled out and started heading towards Steve’s art warehouse instead of across the bridge.

Before they'd fallen asleep the night before, Steve had told Bucky that Tony’s one caveat for his help was that they come over the morning after to — as Tony has put it — ‘either celebrate your happy engagement or watch the pair of you try and out-drown each other in the alcohol that'll do nothing to quell the pain and misery of having just lost the love of your lives’.

Steve leaned back against the car door and arched an eyebrow. “And why would that be? You leave something there?”

Bucky really was such an idiot, but he had a decent excuse, dammit.

“Uh,” he started as he turned down Flatbush. “Well, in my defense, yesterday _was_ a new kind of Big Deal Day. But um... I sort of forgot to give you your anniversary gift.”

“You forgot.”

“For a good reason.”

“What reason would be good enough to forget to show me — on our _anniversary_ no less — that you love me?”

“Well, in case you missed it yesterday — hey!” he exclaimed, smacking Steve’s shoulder when Steve started snickering. “Asshole.”

“Bucky, why won’t you just admit you don’t love me?”

Bucky held up his hand and flashed his engagement ring at Steve (and maybe, just a little, his breath caught at the sight of it). “You’re absolutely right, you ass. I don’t love you. I only took this from you because I like shiny things.”

Steve just nodded at him, clearly trying to fight back a laugh. “Knew the truth would come out eventually.”

“I’m after you for your money, Rogers.”

“Joke’s on you, then.”

As he parked in the little garage attached to the warehouse, he took a few deep breaths at the nerves suddenly prickling all over his skin. He’d thought his present was pretty damn special, but it in no way matched what Steve had done for him, and now he was wondering if maybe the whole thing was a little, well, stupid. It was just a stone slab. It wasn’t anything fancy.

He took Steve’s hand and led him back to the far corner, where a collection of abandoned pieces were all stacked against the wall. Some complete, some not (mostly not), and it was an area Steve rarely visited, unless he felt a hankering to try and complete one of the unfinished pieces. Bucky knew tucking the slab behind a stack of the completed ones would go unnoticed.

He stopped Steve in front of a giant work table. “Wait here and close your eyes,” he said, with a tiny smile. He quickly grabbed the heavy piece of stone from its hiding place before carefully setting it down on the table in front of Steve.

“Open your eyes.”

Steve blinked his eyes open and gasped a little. “Wow, Bucky...  This is _beautiful._ ”

The slab was about five feet long and three feet wide, made of patchwork stone, faded by sun and wind and time. Smooth on one side, jagged on the other, it breathed of rich history. Sturdy, despite its broken edges.

Bucky nervously tapped his hand along its edge. “You remember the Krotakian attack in Italy a few months back, and that church that got almost totally destroyed? The one from, like, fifteen hundred years ago? Well, um, I made a donation to their rebuilding efforts and asked if they’d give me maybe one of the small tiles that had been broken off, but they gave me this instead. I, uh... I thought maybe you could paint it. Or something. If you wanted.”

“If I wanted...” Steve whispered, and Bucky relaxed slightly at the look of awe on Steve’s face.

Steve walked slowly around it, his fingers dancing along the surface, his gaze focused, as though he was cataloging every inch of the stone. As he came to stand next to Bucky, he wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, his eyes never leaving the slab. “I can’t believe you got me... This is...this is amazing, Buck.” He turned to smile, a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “Of all the things you could think to get me. This is just so special. Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Well, you know, we were there at the end of attack, and I remember looking at the church and thinking how beautiful it was, even amongst its destruction, and I just thought — I don’t know — that maybe you could create more beauty out if it.”

Steve just stared at him. “You’re spectacular, you know that?”

“It’s just a piece of rubble, Steve.”

“No, it’s _art._ ” Steve smiled at him, placing a hand along his jaw. “And you saw it.”

Bucky smiled, shy, and Steve leaned in for a kiss. So maybe the gift wasn’t so bad after all.

~~~~

They didn’t spend much more time at the warehouse — just long enough for Steve to find a more secure spot for the slab than behind a pile of canvases. They headed out to the Tower with a mix of giddy excitement and dread, because as happy as they both were, there was no telling what Tony had in store for them.

“Common floor, JARVIS.”

“Right away, Sergeant Barnes.”

The elevator began its swift ascent and Bucky pulled on Steve’s hand to lean with him against the back wall. “You tell them we were on our way? Or were we supposed to be here at a certain time?” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket with his free hand to check the time. “It's a little after eleven now.”

“Well, I told Tony we’d be by sometime before noon. Knowing him, he probably thinks that means we’d be here by three.”

Bucky snorted. “So really, chances are we’re about to walk in on him in his —”

_“SUPRISE!!!”_

“— underwear,” he finished, thunderstruck, as the doors slid open to the sight of almost every single one of their friends standing around the common floor living room. Nat and Clint were standing with Maria, Sam, and Pietro just outside the elevator; behind them was Thor with Jane, and Bruce, Tony and Pepper. Bucky was able to just glimpse Hunter, May, and Bobbi back near the fireplace. He didn’t see Wanda or Vision there, nor did he see Coulson or Fury. The rest, though, were all smiling and cheering, and there was a digital banner ‘waving’ overhead that said ‘CONGRATULATIONS?’.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Steve remarked, and Bucky glanced over to see the _so very clear_ look of guilt that Steve tried valiantly to mask, except for how he was a horrible lying liar, and —

“Oh, you fucking _knew,_ ” Bucky accused, thumping Steve hard in the stomach, earning him a huff in return.

“I _swear,_ Buck...”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you goddamn liar.” Bucky cut him off with a laugh and tugged him out the elevator into a melee of hugs and congratulations. As he reached Tony — Steve had broken off to talk to Sam and Maria — he immediately held up his hand to flash the ring.

“‘Congratulations?’” he said, nodding to the banner.

“It’s Cap’s fault, really,” Tony said, completely unashamed, and solemnly shaking his head. “Did he bother to text me your answer? No, he didn’t. Because he’s inconsiderate like that. Had he done so, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Drastic? It’s a question mark, Tony.”

“No, it _was_ a question,” Tony countered, then reached up and pulled the question mark off before tossing it aside. It disappeared the moment he let go. Then he turned back to grin, wide, at Bucky. “See? No question mark.” The next thing Bucky knew, Tony’s hand was on his shoulder, as he twisted his face up into something resembling concern. “But, really. No question at all? Because I can have the Stark jet ready to go in twenty. You just said the word, Buckybot. I’ll make you a free man.”

Bucky laughed just as an arm slid around his waist. “Who’s a free man?” Steve asked, then kissed behind Bucky’s ear, as Tony took a step back from the sudden intrusion. “You looking to skip out already?”

Bucky nodded in Tony’s direction. “Tony here was just offering me a contingency plan.”

“That offer stands for you too, Cap. No one’s married yet, you know.”

“Soon enough.” Steve hummed as he rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Hopefully.”

Bucky sighed inwardly in relief. It had been barely over twelve hours since the proposal, but Bucky’s mind had already skipped ahead to _when_ the wedding might happen. He was a ‘live for the now’ kind of guy, which meant no long engagements. He’d never understood it — the whole ‘we’re just enjoying being engaged’ crap he heard people say. Wasn’t the whole _point_ of an engagement just a means to an end?

He turned to look at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “That mean you aren’t looking to wait a year or some such nonsense to do this?”

“A _year?_ ” Steve scoffed. “Why would we do that?”

“Don’t weddings take, like, at least that long to plan?” Clint piped up from where he’d wandered out of the kitchen, three champagne flutes in hand. He pressed one each into Steve and Bucky’s hands. “They’re super involved, I hear.”

“Where?” Tony asked, eyeing him. “Where have _you_ heard that? Have you ever even been to a wedding? You don’t even own a nice suit. Or _a_ suit, for that matter. We should fix that.”

Clint nodded at Steve and Bucky. “Well, if these two are getting hitched, you’re going to _have_ to fix that.”

“Did we say you were invited?” Bucky asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Pretty sure we haven’t invited you yet,” Steve added.

“Please, Barnes.” Clint snorted and started walking over to where Natasha was talking to Pepper. “We all know I’m your Best Man.”

Natalia looked up at that, but didn’t say anything, just arched an eyebrow at Clint before turning that look on Bucky. He just shrugged at her and shook his head, mouthing, _don’t worry, that’s you_ , at her.

She gave him an approving half-smile before patting Clint on the cheek. “Sure you are, honey.”

“I _am._ ” Clint gave Bucky an exasperated look before turning back to Nat. “Who else would it be?”

“Well, I _am_ his best friend.”

“Um...” Steve held up a finger

 _“Second_ best friend,” Nat corrected with a nod toward Steve.

Clint huffed at her. “Okay, but I’m his best _guy_ friend.”

“Again,” Steve chimed in, just as Nat punched Clint, _hard_ , on the arm.

“Uh oh,” Bucky heard Bruce mutter from somewhere behind him.

Clint turned to glare at her as he rubbed at his arm. “What was that for?”

She stared at him, not saying anything. When he continued to just stare right back at her, she hauled off and punched him again. “You think a _girl_ can’t be a Best Man?”

“I didn’t say...” Clint trailed off as Nat’s gaze bored into him. It took him another minute, but eventually he averted his eyes and grumbled. ‘Wasn’t what I meant.”

“Uh huh.” But she still wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek. “Idiot.”

“Also, pretty sure _I’m_ his second best mate of the guy variety,” Hunter added. Bucky turned away from the Nat and Clint show and gave Hunter a wink to his knowing smile. To the grave, their stories would go. “So if we’re playing the gender card here, that would make me the Best Man.”

“So what does that make me, then? Chopped liver?” Clint all but squawked at the room, throwing up his free arm, and okay, maybe Bucky was starting to feel bad for him. He nudged Steve in the ribs.

“Okay, well, what about me?” Steve quickly asked.

Clint peered at him suspiciously.  “What about you? You have Sam.”

“Yeah, and Bucky has Natasha _and_ Hunter.”

“So?”

Bucky started to snicker, only to stumble into a cough as Steve pinched his side.

“So...” Steve went on. “If Bucky has two, I should get two, uh, too. Wouldn’t you say?”

Bucky could see the way Clint was worrying at his cheek inside his mouth. “So, you want me and Sam, then?”

Steve nodded, and gave Clint his best half-smile. The self-effacing one that Steve knew endeared him to damn near everyone. _Someone_ was playing dirty.

And apparently it was working, because Clint gave him a short nod back. “Okay, I can live with that.”

“Uh, excuse me,” Tony said. “Engagement helper extraordinaire? What do I get?”

“You’ll see,” Steve promised.

Bucky looked up in alarm.  “Uh, who’s gonna what see?”

Steve pulled him in for a kiss, then leaned in close. “Tell you later, okay?”

“Promise?” Steve nodded, and Bucky nodded back. “Okay.”

The party went into full swing after that, starting with a toast over the champagne Clint had handed them. Tony brought in one of the Stark Industry chefs to cater lunch for the group, and Bucky and Steve spent a solid hour telling the story of the engagement, starting with Bucky’s disastrous couple of days leading up to it.

And just like the night before, Bucky couldn’t bear to be out of Steve’s grasp for more than a few minutes. Like a gravitational pull, whenever the two got separated for any reason, it wasn’t long before they slowly began inching their way back into each other’s arms. It made Bucky smile, because it wasn’t _just_ that he needed to be touching Steve as much as humanly possible — it was something he would _get_ to do for the rest of his life.

Getting a piece of metal slipped onto a finger sure did a lot to change a guy’s perspective of the future. Just a few days before, the rest of their lives was an un-thought about given. Now the _certainty_ of it was all he could concentrate on.

After lunch, he stood in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Midtown Manhattan. As he watched the sea of tiny dots below, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and Steve stepped in to kiss him softly. He’d just gotten back from their floor, where he’d wandered off to get the original composite sketches of Bucky’s ring. (Bruce had been curious about the metal compound.) The only reason Bucky hadn’t gone _with_ him was because he’d been certain that, had they been left alone, they’d never have made it back down to their friends.

“How ya doin’? Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear.

Bucky hummed and held him tighter, smiling into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Better now that you’re back.”

A huff of laughter tickled Bucky’s hair. “I wasn’t gone _that_ long.”

“Long enough.”

“Like, ten minutes.”

“Did you really need to be gone those whole extra nine minutes?”

“Incorrigible,” Steve said, then stepped back and took Bucky’s face in his hands. “You know, we never did finish talking about when we wanted to do this. You said something about not making this a thing?”

Bucky stiffened under Steve’s concerned gaze. He _had_ said that. “I just don’t want this to become a circus with the media, is all.”

Steve ran his hands down to cup Bucky’s neck. “So we don’t let it. I mean, hell, I worked hard to make yesterday happen without the media knowing about it. You think I want helicopters swarming over our wedding? Not a fucking chance.”

Bucky breathed out a relieved smile. “So we keep this just with us? With our people, and that’s it?”

“That’s the only way _I_ want it. You’re cool with the same?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

They smiled conspiratorially at each other, and Bucky couldn’t tell you later who leaned in first, but good goddamn, if that kiss wasn’t a deal sealed.

“So, what about the _when?_ ” Steve asked as he steered them back to their friends. “When are we doing this?”

“Soon.” That was all Bucky had. “Just...as soon as possible.”

“So, what, like six months?” Sam asked around a bite of a filet mignon slider, joining the conversation.

Bucky turned from Steve to Sam, then back, slightly horrified. “Do we really have to wait that long?”

“Baby, if we do it any sooner, it’ll be right in the middle of winter.”

Bucky couldn’t help the cringe. No way was he getting married in the _cold._ But really, though, New York stayed warmer a lot longer these days, and they could easily get away with a wedding sooner than that.

“What about next month?” he asked hesitantly, and apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because the room instantly erupted.

“A _month?_ ”

“Barnes, that’s insane, weddings take _way_ longer than that to plan.”

“Asgardian weddings have been known to take several years to plan...”

“Baby, don’t you want to at least wait until spring?”

“My gran got married in two weeks...”

“How much are you willing to spend to make that happen?”

“Not everything's about money, Tony.”

“Quiet, Bruce.”

“What’s so bad about a month?” Bucky shouted, over the din of people. He turned to Steve, pleading a little. “Seriously, Stevie, I wasn’t kidding about the not waiting. I mean, if we’re making it small...”

“What’s this about small?” Tony asked.

“We want to keep it just close friends,” Steve answered.

“Okay, we’re the Avengers. We don’t _do_ small —”

“Shut up, Tony,” said Steve and Bruce in unison, and Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at the way Tony grumbled his way off to go sit by Pepper on the couch.

Light fingers touched his cheek. “Buck, that is _awful_ soon.”

“You said it yourself, Stevie,” Bucky started, with a shrug. “If we wait any longer, it’ll be winter, and I _really_ don’t want to wait six months. If we’re gonna do this, let’s _do_ this.” He barked out a small laugh. “Funny enough, only a week ago, I wasn’t even _thinking_ about marriage, but now? Now I want this. I want to be married to you, and I want to be married to you _yesterday._ ”

Steve eyes softened, and he smiled. “And here I thought I was the only one.”

Bucky’s chest filled with hope. “So, is that a yes? Please don’t make me wait, Steve, _please._ ”

Bucky didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes took on a sheen before he pressed his lips against Bucky’s. “Yes, you crazy person.” He peppered kisses all over Bucky’s face before cupping his cheeks. “Let’s get this wedding thing over with.”

~~~~

_October 27th — B_

_That’s, like, six weeks from now. — T_

_Which means you get an extra two weeks to keep the press at bay. — B_

_Have I ever told you how much I hate you? — T_

_Not today, you haven’t. I was starting to feel neglected. — B_

_Well, I do. I hate you. And your big blond labrador of a fiancé. Make sure to tell him that. — T_

_As long as you have the date saved. — B_

_Anything for you, sweetheart. — T_

Bucky laughed and he tossed his phone onto the couch next of him. He went back to flipping through channels as he waited impatiently for Steve to get back from some last-minute meeting with Coulson. Had pulled Steve right out of their engagement party.

The elevator dinged and Bucky looked over the back of the couch with a smile. “Hey, babe, I may have settled us on a date...” The words died in his throat at the grim expression on Steve’s face. Bucky was immediately off the couch and in front of him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” Steve grumbled and threw his SHIELD badge at the table next to the elevator door. It bounced off the table onto the floor. Steve scowled at it before turning back to Bucky. “You know, nothing really important, other than the fact that it looks like we have to fucking postpone everything now.”

 _“What?_ Why? _”_

Bucky trailed behind Steve has he stomped his way into the apartment and began pacing the living room. _“_ So, Wanda and Vision are in a bit of a jam on their mission.” (So, _that_ explained why they weren’t at the party.) “They’re supposed to be infiltrating a palace in Dubai to steal _one single fucking laptop_ from the Saudi crown prince, but the prince has decided he wants to throw this _massive_ fucking party to celebrate one of his brothers’ _own_ engagement, so now security has been quadrupled, and they need someone to go in posing as a guest and party invitee.” Steve rounded on Bucky. “And that someone _apparently_ has to be me.”

“But _why?_ ” This sounded more like a job for Tony, not Steve. He walked over and took Steve’s hand and gave him a small shake. “Why are they sending you?”

Steve took a deep breath before pulling them both down onto the couch. “The crown prince likes me, after that mission to Tabuk.  Remember? Actually, I have an open invitation to everything he throws. We just, you know...aren’t that kind of partying type.”

“And now you are?”

“Seems like now I have to be. It’s just too many guards for Wanda to take on, and even in his full human stealth mode, there’s still something... _off_ about Vision.”

Steve wasn’t wrong about that. Vision could _look_ human, but there really was something that didn’t work about it.

“For how long?” he asked, with a resigned sigh.

Steve ticked a wary eye towards him. “About four weeks.”

 _“Four weeks?”_ Bucky sat back, aghast. “Are you fucking _joking_ me?” He shot up off the couch and began his own pacing. “No. No way, nu-uh. They can find someone else to do it. I am _not_ postponing our wedding until _spring_ , Steve!”

“I _know,_ Bucky, believe me.” Steve held up his hands, placating. “But the royal family is still pissed at Tony for what his Iron Man suit did to the side of the palace, and...and we _need_ that laptop, Buck. We’re fairly sure the prince doesn’t know what’s on it, but _we_ do, and we need that intel, okay? We need it.”

The disappointment running through Bucky was palpable. He knew better than anyone that the mission always came first, but this was.... Getting married had _become_ his new mission. Being told that he was going to have to wait now was crushing him.

He glanced down at his ring, and for one hysterical moment, felt an overwhelming desire to take it off and hand it back to Steve — at least for the time being. He wasn’t sure if he could look at it for the next four weeks while Steve was gone. It would just be a constant reminder that the date he’d chosen would come and go and he still wouldn’t be married to Steve.

Thankfully, it was just one hysterical moment. Bucky wasn’t so selfish as to _actually_ break Steve’s heart.

He slowly sat back down and dropped his head in his hands. This wasn’t _just_ about him, but Steve too. He _and_ Steve were both were about to miss out, and he needed to not make it about himself.

That didn’t stop him from leaning in gratefully when Steve wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“‘s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but it _is_ because of something I have to do that we now have to wait.”

Bucky shook his head into Steve’s t-shirt. “Stop it, okay? We’ll just pick a new date.”

“You said when I came in...” Steve tilted Bucky’s chin up to look at him. “You picked one already?”

He gave Steve a wan smile. “Yeah. October 27th. Figured six weeks out was good, and the weather’ll probably still be nice. You know.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “Global warming.”

“Six weeks, huh?” Steve’s look turned contemplative. “So you were thinking more than a month?”

“Well, I mean, not _much_ more. I just figured the way everyone was bitching, I could push it out a tiny bit. And okay, I get that that’s not _six months,_ but I really didn’t want to push it into next year, and sure as shit not into _winter_ —”

Lips were on his before he’d barely had time to finish his thought. The kiss was hard, and Bucky frowned at the way he could feel Steve _smiling._ Sure enough, when he pulled back, there was a new light in Steve’s eyes.

“ _What?_ ” he asked, suspicious. “What are you thinking?”

“Six weeks,” Steve repeated with another smile. “Six weeks isn’t four weeks.”

“That it’s not,” Bucky answered, completely nonplussed. “Takes a whole extra two to get from four to six. Still not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Silly idiot,” Steve admonished, all affection as he kissed Bucky again. “You know how to plan a mission, Buck. Think you could plan a wedding?”

It took Bucky an embarrassing amount of seconds for what Steve was saying to sink in. Seconds he would never admit to, not even under duress. He’d been tortured in his life. He could take it.

“So.” Bucky started, slow. “You’re saying you want _me_ to plan our wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Without you.”

“Also yes.”

“By myself.”

“Well, I’m sure our friends would help.”

“For the next four weeks.”

“Until I get back, yes.”

Like Bucky’s slow and embarrassing uptake on Steve’s plan, he would _also_ never admit under duress that what Steve was actually proposing terrified him to his very core.

Plan a wedding. On his own. Sure, Steve was right, he could plan a mission, but a wedding? What the fuck did he know about _weddings?_ Hell, he hadn’t _been_ to one since a mission to Croatia in ‘88. And he’d killed the bride during that one.

But Steve had marching orders, and regardless, Bucky still didn’t want to wait. If Steve could do his duty, then Bucky could do his.  

With a deep sigh, he nodded. “Okay.”

And damn, if wasn’t that just all worth it to see Steve light up like the fucking sun.

“Really? You wanna do this?”

Bucky laughed. “I think _want_ is a strong word there, buddy. But yeah. I’ll do this. If it means we still get married in six weeks, I’ll do this and sing a song while I’m at it.”

“Make sure Clint records that so we can play it on loop at the reception.”

“That’s fine, just means no wedding sex for you. I’ll have died from embarrassment by then.”

Steve snorted, then nuzzled into the crook of Bucky’s neck. “My ass. You’d probably give a repeat performance.”

“Only if you join me.”

“You go, I go, remember?”

And that right there was why Bucky knew marrying Steve was the best damn decision he’d ever made in his life. Because if Bucky was ever going to go down in flames, he knew Steve would be right there holding his hand straight into Hell.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I remember.”

~~~~

Steve left the very next day. Off to spend the next four weeks alternating between planning a tactical infiltration with Wanda and Vision, and partying his ass off with a guy who made Tony’s wealth look like the few pennies a pauper had in his pocket.

It had been a couple hours since Steve had left (but not before giving a Bucky a thorough goodbye fuck and a giant ‘sorry for leaving’ cup of coffee), and Bucky hadn’t gotten up yet, just continued to stare at the ceiling as he tried to figure out where he was supposed to start with this whole clusterfuck. He wondered if the serum would allow him to break out in hives, because his stress levels sure as hell made him think he should _._

He could do this. He could _do_ this.

Frustrated, and more than a lot panicky, he finally sat up in bed and opened a group chat on his phone to fire off a text to Natalia and Hunter.

_Steve left this morning for four weeks. Need to plan wedding on my own now. Ummm..... — B_

He went out to grab more coffee while he waited for a response. Because _fuck,_ it had sounded like a good idea the night before, but now?

He wasn’t the planner! He couldn’t do this. _He couldn’t do this._

As he slumped at the kitchen counter, his phone decided to buzz.

_If I asked you to tell me what Bells of Ireland and Birds of Paradise were, what would you say? — N_

_Sounds like the name of hipster rock bands to me. — L_

Bucky snorted into his coffee.

_What Hunter said. — B_

_SMH. You two are hopeless. — N_

_They’re flowers, you numb nuts. If you can’t even tell me that, I can’t see how you’re supposed to plan a wedding. — N_

_(I would say you’re in luck that Clint has no clue either, but well...) — N_

_EXACTLY!!!! — B_

_Sounds like you’re screwed, mate. Leave Steve now. Marriage ISN’T worth the headache. — L_

_So helpful, you are. — B_

_Assclown. — B_

Bucky thunked his head against the counter and groaned. He had six weeks to plan some big party, and he _literally_ had no idea where to start.

_Food, tuxes, flowers, DJ, and officiant. Should be easy enough. What else do you need? Bobbi and I didn’t have much more than that. — L_

“Huh.” Bucky frowned at his phone. Hunter actually did have a point there.

_Uhhh... Maybe the cake, DJ *or* band, marriage license, table settings, table placement, first dances, vows, party gifts, photographer, videographer, invitations, wedding AND reception venues, colors, bachelor parties, programs, registry... I could go on. — N_

When Bucky didn’t get a response from Hunter for the solid two minutes he was staring at his phone in abject horror, he knew his friend had been stunned into the same silence.

What the fuck?

What the _actual_ fuck?

What had Steve _left_ him with?

 _He couldn’t do this_.

He fired back one more text before shoving his feet into a pair of shoes, grabbing his keys and heading out, hot coffee left forgotten on the counter.

_Tower. My floor. Twenty minutes. — B_

When the elevator doors opened _fifteen_ minutes later, Nat and Hunter were already there. He stopped short at the sight them sitting on his couch.

“What, did you guys just not leave yesterday?” he asked, incredulous

“I didn’t,” Hunter answered, and Natalia shrugged.

“I live closer than you, and I was already out the door when you texted.” Then she smirked at him. “Nice PJ’s, btw.”

Bucky glanced down at his t-shirt, boxers, and Converse. He shook his head, because he had _no_ time to care, and flopped down on the couch between them, tilting over to rest his head on Nat’s lap. She wasted no time running her fingers through his hair. The touch was soothing, and definitely what he needed, because he was trying damn hard not to spin himself into a total anxiety attack. Doc wouldn’t approve.

There was no way he could do this. No _wonder_ everyone had flipped out when he’d said a month. How was he supposed to plan a whole wedding in a _month?_

“Where’s Clint?” he asked. And yes, he was stalling.

“Went back to sleep, obviously.”

“Not sure why I even asked.” Bucky sighed and closed his eyes.

“You know we’ll help you, right, _kotenok_?” Natalia assured him, and smiled when he turned worried eyes up to her. “No one is expecting you to do this on your own, not even Steve.”

“Steve is going to a party,” he grumbled, and sat up. “A literal party. For someone _else’s_ engagement. And I’m stuck here trying to _plan_ a party — a party it never even occurred to me I’d be _having_ one day.” He sighed, dejected, and glanced between them. “You guys don’t think maybe I should postpone it?”

“Oh, you absolutely should.”

“Of course you should.”

“Six weeks is _insane,_ man.”

“You know I love you, Bucky-bear, but something is wrong in your head if you think this is a good idea.”

“Okay, I get it.” He held up his hands to stop them, only to drop them onto his knees in frustration. The light from the windows caught on his ring and he turned his hand over. _God,_ the ring was beautiful. And it was made just for him. Steve had _already_ spent months planning a single day for him. Steve had done his time. And that proposal and this ring were the product of it. How could he make _Steve_ wait?

“No.” He shook his head. “We’re doing this in six weeks. October 27th, come hell or high water, Stevie and I are doing this.” He stuck his chin out and glared at them both in turn, daring either of them to argue.

Hunter just held his hands up in surrender while Nat smiled her special smile she reserved only for him. Usually when she was proud of him.

With a little bit more resolve than he’d had this morning, he got up and headed for the bedroom to grab the tablet he knew was on the dresser.  He also slipped into some actual clothes while he was at it. “Hey, JARVIS?” he called out when he came back in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

He opened the planning app, and started a new project. “Can you tell me who Tony’s go-to party planner is and how much they cost?”

“That would be Bethany Mitchell, and she runs three thousand —”

“Okay, that’s not so bad.”

“— an hour during the event, with the planning phase starting at a hundred thousand.”

Bucky’s finger froze over the keyboard as Hunter started coughing into his coffee. “A _hundred thousand?_ ” he sputtered, setting the drink on the table. “You _are_ referring to the yen, yeah? The rupiah, maybe? Those aren’t _actual_ dollars.”

“Mr. Stark only works with the best, sir.”

 _“Mr. Stark_ is buying my next everything.”

“Anybody that’s _not_ going to end up costing me an arm? My _other_ arm?” Bucky cut in. There had to be _someone_ out there who could help him. This was New York. The party capital of the world.

“There are over seventeen hundred event planners in the Tri-State area, sir, with just under six hundred of those in the city of New York. How would you like me to narrow that down?”

He blinked at Nat and started to feel his chest seizing up on him again. She squeezed metal fingers in return. “Hey JARVIS, where’s Tony? Or actually, where’s Pepper?”

“Both Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are down in the lab.”

With a reassuring smile, she gave Bucky’s hand another squeeze before hauling him up off the couch and dragging him to the elevator, Hunter tailing behind them.

Pepper was standing in the middle of one of Tony’s holographic pods when they made it to the lab. Her arms were out slightly, as Tony walked around her making notes on a tablet. She was wearing a tracksuit, her hair pulled back, but all of that was lost in the holographic image of what looked like a slimmer version of the Iron Man suit hovering around her.

Tony huffed at his tablet before grabbing a piece of the suit and tossing it into his digital trashcan. “You know, Pep, I get that you want the suit lighter, but I can only do so much.”

She didn’t even bat an eye as she said, “You’re Tony Stark.”

“Oh. You’re right.” His eyes lit up and he grabbed another piece to toss. “Forgot there for a minute. How light do you want it again?”

“Well, I _would_ prefer it to be as light as the clothes I’m currently wearing, but unlike you, I actually _am_ realistic.” She turned to smile at him, and damn, if his return smile wasn’t just the goofiest thing Bucky had ever seen.

“I know how to be realistic. Didn’t I just say I couldn’t do it? That was me being realistic. You should be proud.”

“I would be, except you’re Tony Stark.”

“I _am_ Tony Stark.”

“Make it lighter.”

“One light suit coming up!”

Hunter snickered as he leaned in to whisper in Bucky’s ear, “You know, I _would_ say, if she stroked his ego any harder, they should probably start charging.”

Bucky kept his voice just as low. “Tactical maneuver. Pepper gets what Pepper wants because she knows how to play Stark like a fucking fiddle.”

Natalia ignored them in favor of clearing her throat. Pepper jumped slightly, dislodging a couple of the holographic pieces, but Tony just turned and grinned wide at them.

“My three favorite opinionators! Tell me, what do you think about Pepper’s Extremis suit?”

Bucky tilted his head. “I thought it was just an Iron Girl suit.”

“Not very feminist of you, Barnes,” Tony tsked. He walked around to stand in front of Pepper and waved the tablet in her direction. “Are you saying a girl can’t be Iron Man? Are you taking notes from Barton again?”

“I didn’t mean...”

Tony just waved him off. “You’re fine, big guy. Just don’t let Pepper hear you saying those things. She doesn’t take kindly to being overlooked.”

“I’m right here, Tony,” Peppered reminded him, arching an eyebrow, and gave Bucky a sly grin.

“Good point! Well, sorry, Bucky, looks like you’re fucked.” He walked over and shut the hologram down before turning on the group again. “Before my lady love burns you from the inside out, what can I do for you?”

Hunter held up a finger. “Wait, first can we go back to the whole ‘Extremis suit’?”

“See, this is why I love our SHIELD agents,” Tony said with a proud little grin. He handed Hunter his tablet. It held a much more involved visual of the suit, with a jumble of notes that Bucky was _certain_ didn’t belong to any language he’d ever seen.

“The Extremis suit, my friends, essentially does work like one of the Marc suits, but instead of relying on arc reactor technology to power it, this one taps into Pepper’s super fire-breathing abilities and harnesses that instead.”

Hunter looked up in shock. He took in Tony first before glancing at Pepper, then back again. “So, you’re essentially making a containment unit for Pepper and turning her into a weapon?”

Tony shrugged. “Well, more like creating a protective barrier around Pepper and keeping her from self-combusting, but basically, yes.”

“But... You aren’t wearing it 24/7, are you?” Natalia directed her question at Pepper, but her eyes never left the tablet.

“No, not all the time. Tony and I were just brainstorming for extreme circumstances.”

“Like our next alien attack?” Bucky asked.

“Like our next alien attack.” Pepper then stepped down from the pod and made her way over to the trio. “So, what _can_ we do for you?”

Nat stepped up, essentially cutting Bucky off just as he opened his mouth. “No reason to beat around this one. Steve is off on a mission, and he and Bucky want to get married in six weeks. This genius” — she waved a hand at Bucky — “spent all of five minutes trying to do it on his own before he lost it. We’re here to soothe his fear back into submission.”

Pepper’s smile turned indulgent. “So, you’re saying you need help planning it?”

“Oh, I can help with —”

“Tony, _no_ ,” Pepper cut in with a sharp glare before turning back to Bucky.

“Uh...” He looked around, feeling a little lost. This was _Pepper._ He was supposed to have his shit together around Pepper. “Uh, yeah — I mean, yes. I could use some help.”

“Hmmm.” Pepper nodded, appraising him. “Big or small?”

“Small.”

“Detailed or simple?”

“Simple.”

“Is there anyone you’d like to invite outside the usual suspects?”

“Maybe just a couple local people Steve and I have gotten to know.”

“And you said soon?”

“October 27th.”

Pepper eyed him shrewdly before smiling. “Well, that _is_ soon, isn’t it. Nothing I can’t handle, but are you sure?”

Bucky ducked his head as heat traveled up his neck. “Well, I thought about postponing it, but...”

Light fingers touched his cheek, and dammit, he flushed harder. When he looked up, he was met with kind eyes. “You love him, and you don’t want to wait. I get that. Bucky, we _can_ do this, if it’s what you want.”

He shrugged, shy, and okay yeah, he wasn’t exactly looking her in the eye. “It’s what I want.”

Her smiled widened. “Then we’ll make it happen.”

Bucky smiled back, feeling stupid and sheepish. It had never occurred to him to think of Pepper in the midst of all the freaking out he’d done since Steve had given him the bad news. He _knew_ better than that.

“Okay,” he said. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“For you, Bucky, anything.”

“No one’s going to leave you hanging, sweetie,” Natalia added as she bumped his shoulder. He turned to glance at Hunter, who immediately waved him off.

“Oh, no. You can forget me on this little adventure. I’ll stand up there with you and throw you a bachelor party you won’t _ever_ remember — “

“Excuse me,” Tony tried to cut in.

“— but _planning_ a wedding isn’t exactly my bag, y’know? I did my time once already.”

“Okay, but can we get back to the part about who will be planning the bachelor parties?” Tony asked. “Because I’m pretty sure no one’s out-matching me on that one.”

It was perfect unison the way Pepper and Nat immediately said, “Tony, _no_ ,” just as Hunter snorted at him.

“I said, one he wouldn’t _remember,_ Stark. Not one he wouldn’t _survive._ ”

Tony gaped and pointed a finger at Hunter. “I’m _offended_ at the implication. They’re super soldiers. They can survive anything.”

And Bucky, right there, barked a hysterical laugh, because he had six weeks to plan a wedding that would make Steve proud, and damn, if what Tony had just said wasn’t just the overstatement of the century.

~~~~

The little bell that jingled over the door at City Sweets made Bucky think of Christmas, its musical lilt something straight out of a Capra film. Christmas was only a few months away, and it would be his and Steve’s first Christmas as a married couple, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Come to think of it, _everything_ for the foreseeable future would be a new beginning for them — first holidays, first birthdays, first vacations, first missions... They hadn’t had anything like that since Bucky had come home. It was exciting to think that, after more than a few lifetimes, firsts were still a possibility for them.

He looked around at the small, inviting shop, and all the different cake displays. They were beautiful, but not as intricate as the kind of stuff he saw on the Food Network. But then, those were always competitions. These just needed to _look_ beautiful. And did they ever.

“You must be Mr. Barnes.” He glanced over to see a genial-looking woman walked toward him, her hand outstretched with a warm smile. “I’m the owner here, Deborah.”

“Please, call me Bucky.” He smiled back, shaky and a little nervous, as he shook her hand. Pepper had told him the owner would be seeing to him personally, since she wasn’t able to join him herself (some meeting or other — he hadn’t bothered with the details).

“Bucky it is, then.” Her smiled brightened even as her eyes turned assessing. “Tell me, Bucky, have you ever been cake tasting before?”

“Uh... I’ve _tasted_ cake before, does that count?” He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around again at the truly impressive displays around the shop. He wasn’t gonna lie; it was more than a little overwhelming. Also, they all looked kind of...girlie. Not that there was anything wrong with girlie, but they _so_ weren’t.

He frowned as he waved a hand around the room. “Uh, will our cake have to look like one of these. I mean, I know we aren’t exactly straight, but we aren’t...frilly...either.”

She chuckled before guiding him over to a long table in the back. “You know, you aren’t the first gay couple to say that to me — or straight couple for that matter.” She sat down at one end of the table and flipped open the binder on it. “These are just our more popular looks. But we’re very versatile here.” She spun the book around to face him. “Something more like _this,_ I think, would suit you.”

It was a four-tier, hexagonal cake, done up in white with silver accents. The tiers had different patterns, each one reminding him of going to the picture-show with Steve when they were kids — archways and curtains, glamor and glitz. It almost looked like...

“That’s...”

“Inspired by the Roaring Twenties, yes. We call it the Centennial Cake.”

“Surprisingly, that was actually a bit before our time, if you can believe it,” he said, his eyes still on the picture of the cake. His fingers danced along its edges. “Stevie and I were just little kids during the twenties.”

“But you did _meet_ during the twenties, right?”

There was something about her voice that made him look up. She was trying to mask the expectant look on her face, and failing spectacularly. He narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t a standard cake, is it. This was designed for _us_.”

Expectancy gave way to guilt, but it was there and gone in a flash. This woman was a professional. Instead she gave him a wry smile. “I actually thought it would take you longer to figure that out, but then, I remember what you do for a living.”

Bucky sighed, because he had no doubt Pepper had told her how anxious he was about the whole wedding thing. She probably saw it every day, too; but usually there was at least _one_ party involved who got into all of this stuff. Maybe it would be Steve, or maybe he’d be more inclined and eager if Steve were here. But after a week of nothing but going over  with Pepper what he and Steve would want and not want, _alone_ , then kicking things off with picking colors, _alone,_ and making appointments for things like venues and cake tastings, _alone,_ and fittings (that they luckily didn’t need) and DJs, _alone,_ Bucky was surprised his head hadn’t already spun off.

“Well, it is kind of perfect,” he sighed. It would be _so easy_ to check this off his list. “And it makes my life easier if I don’t have to pick a design, but...” He gave her a small shrug. “Steve is the artist, not me. Can I send this to him?”

“Of course!” She held the book up so he could take a picture, sending it off to Steve.

_Apparently, Pepper already had a cake designed for us. What do you think? — B_

The reply didn’t come for fifteen minutes. Deborah went to answer another customer’s question and Bucky had taken to flipping through the book. The cakes in it were kind of insane. When his phone did buzz, he almost jumped.

_Wow, that’s for us??? It’s very Art Deco. — S_

Bucky smiled, because Steve wasn’t exactly wrong.

_It’s called the Centennial Cake. It’s themed after the 20s. — B_

_How many have you looked at? — S_

_“Well, this one was designed FOR us, so you know. Just the one. — B_

It was a few minutes before Steve’s reply came.

_So, my artistic eye wants to say it’s perfect. But the side of me that has all of zero experience at this wedding stuff doesn’t think it should be that simple. — S_

And damn, if that wasn’t exactly what Bucky had thought. He’d been all but convinced these were supposed to be _hard_ decisions that took _time_ to make.

But, then, they didn’t _have_ time. And Pepper knew that, bless her.

_I say we go for it. It looks good, and really, all that matters is the taste, right? We’re dudes. Why do we care what a cake looks like? — B_

_Uh... artist here? I care(ish). I like it though. Go forth and get us a pretty cake. AND MAKE SURE IT’S RED VELVET! — S_

Bucky snorted. Steve and his weird obsession with red velvet. He’d had it _once_ when they were kids, after Bucky’s parents had taken them to the Waldorf Astoria for a slice to share for Bucky’s birthday. Steve had developed a deep love for it once he’d come out of the ice and found it _everywhere._

_I’m sure they have it. But Pepper said we can have each layer be different. — B_

_Wait, really? So vanilla or chocolate as well? Maybe carrot? — S_

“Um, excuse me, Deborah?” Bucky waited for her to finish her conversation and head back. He smiled sheepishly at her. “So, Pepper told me we can have each layer be a different flavor. Is that true?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Each layer can be whatever you choose. Though usually the top layer is meant to be a particular favorite, so you can freeze it and have it for your one year anniversary.”

His face twisted in disgust. “Wouldn’t that be kind of gross?” No way that could taste good after a year. It was _cake._

She shrugged at him. “It usually is,” she confirmed. “It’s just one of those traditions couples like to do.”

Bucky shook his head in horror. “Yeah, no. We won’t be doing that.” He glanced back at his phone. “Well, we were thinking red velvet, chocolate, vanilla, and maybe carrot cake? You got all those?”

Deborah’s smile turned amused. “Mr. Barnes. We have _fifty_ flavors to choose from.”

Bucky damn near dropped his phone. _“Fifty?”_

“Yes, fifty. But don’t worry —”

“Wait, hold that thought,” he cut in, fingers already flying across his phone.

_THEY HAVE FIFTY CAKE FLAVORS! — B_

_FIFTY??? — S_

_THAT’S WHAT I SAID! — B_

_Is one of them Red Velvet? — S_

_I’m sure there is. FIFTY, Stevie. One of them HAS to be RV — B_

_GET ME RED VELVET! — S_

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile before turning back to Deborah. “Sorry, was just yelling at the fiancé about all the flavors. Please, continue.”

Deborah laughed. “As I was about to say, Pepper knows enough about you boys that she was able to narrow it down to about twenty-four.” She snapped her fingers at one of the other staff members, who came out a few minutes later with a truly _enormous_ tray of tiny cupcakes.

Bucky pointed at the tray, suddenly very very afraid. “Uh... That’s not twenty-four.”

“No, it’s seventy-two,” she answered with a polite smile. “Three of each flavor we selected.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, swallowing hard. No way he was supposed to eat seventy —

“Well, to be honest. I had assumed you would come with your groomsmen.”

“Groomspeople,” he corrected automatically.

“I’m sorry?”

“I have a Best Man and a Best Lady.”

“Ah, yes.” She smiled at him. “Well, usually cake tasting isn’t done as a solo act, but if you prefer, I’m more than happy to take some of these away.”

He didn’t have to do this alone?

He held up a finger as he reached for his phone. “One sec.” Then he sent a text off to Hunter and Nat.

_218 W 30th. Near 8th. They said I’m not supposed to taste cake alone. — B_

_You went by yourself??? — N_

_There’s cake??? — L_

_I didn’t know I WASN’T supposed to come by myself! — B_

_Can’t, sugar, I’m prepping for a 24-hour turnaround. Want me to send Clint? — N_

_There’s cake??? — L_

_Yeah, send Clint. I’m supposed to try *24* different flavors, and he’d be up for that kind of mission. — B_

_There’s 24 cake??? — L_

_All right he’s coming. Quickly, it would seem. — N_

_Hunter, stop hyperventilating and go eat cake for me. — N_

Bucky sighed with relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. He really didn’t have to do any of this stuff alone. And plus, you know, cake. And a lot of it. He could deal with a day of cake.

His phone buzzed again and he grabbed it.

_Can Sam come??? Sam wants cake, too! — C_

Bucky snorted and replied that, yes, Sam could come help them pound seventy-two cupcakes. He was nothing if not a giver when it came to a challenge.

~~~~

Bucky had a piece of the Chocolate Stout cupcake halfway to his mouth, but it had been long forgotten in the face of watching Clint go. Bucky had been wracking his brain for a solid five minutes trying to come up with a good word to describe the atrocity going on in front of him, and the best he could come up with was snarfling.

Clint was _snarfling_ the cupcakes.

When the guys had all arrived, they’d tried to figure out how best to divide it all up, considering there were now four of them, instead of three. Clint had immediately taken some sort of goddamned _control_ of the group laying claim to a whole set for himself. He’d then divided up the rest of the cupcakes in some ass-backwards way that actually made sense, with several flavors given to two people and others where one person had to double down. Bucky couldn’t even figure out _how_ Clint had known which flavors to give to who.

The one time he’d tried to ask, Clint had just held up his hand with a, “Don’t question my genius!”

Bucky had shut up after that.

Only to make it through all of three flavors (Carrot Chiffon, Yuzo, and the aforementioned Chocolate Stout) before giving up to watch insanity unfold.

“Does...does he even know what he’s tasting?” Hunter whispered, his own cupcake (Wild Strawberry) also forgotten. “He can’t possibly.”

“No way, man.” Sam shook his head as he bit into his Red Devil, only to look down at it. “Damn, that’s _good._ Didn’t you say Steve liked Red Velvet? Get this one. It’s got a kick.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky answered, not paying attention _at all._ Clint was taking a huge bite out of one of the white cakes, only to swallow it almost whole before grabbing what looked like the same Chocolate Stout Bucky had in his own hand, and repeating the process. He had the most intense look on his face each time he took a bite, as though the cupcakes were personally offending him. Every once in a while, he’d take a second bite, either give a jerky nod or shake, and shove whatever was left off to the side. He’d only managed to actually finish two of them

But there was just...just _no way_ he could be _cataloguing_ them. He was too busy _inhaling_ them to possibly...

He grabbed his phone and quickly fired off an image of Clint, face half-stuffed, to Steve.

_Clint’s trying to turn cake tasting into an Olympic sport. — B_

“You have to wonder if he knows that if you’re going to hoard like a chipmunk, it’s supposed to be stored in your face, not in your stomach.” Hunter pointed a cupcake at Clint curiously. “You also have to wonder if this place will still make your wedding cake when — and I’m saying _when,_ here — _when_ Clint vomits all over the place.

Bucky blanched as he turned to stare at Hunter. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Iron stomach.”

All three of them swiveled to face Clint, who was still mid-hoover.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Clint swallowed just long enough to look him in the eye and say, “I don’t get sick from food,” before going right back to what he was doing.

“Good,” Bucky said faintly. “That’s good.”

His phone buzzed.

_We have the highest running metabolisms of any humans on the planet. We could take him. — S_

Bucky snorted. Stevie _so_ got him.

_I knew there was a reason I was marrying you. Challenge on when you get back. — B_

He jumped a little as Clint suddenly shoved his entire tray aside with some weird, strangled grunt, only to grab at the checklist they were each given, and began to furiously scribble notes on it.

“Sam was right about the red devil one,” he started, not looking up. “You guys have that weird thing about ‘all the new flavors in this century’, and Steve will _love_ the spicy undertones. The violet was good, with a nice honeysuckle front to it, but the floral notes at the end lingered for much longer than they should have. Oh, get the wild strawberry. That's not even a question, because I'm pretty sure I saw God over that one. You tend to like rich flavors, so I would choose the chocolate stout over the chocolate sesame, as it’s much more full-bodied, and will probably pair well with whatever wine you guys serve. Don't bother with the cardamom. It tasted exactly like it smelled, and that's not a good thing...”

He stopped writing and pushed his notes over to Bucky, an expectant smile making him look far more excited than he should be after the show he’d just put on. He nodded at the piece of paper.

“There you go. That's everything including tasting notes and rankings, and flat out nos.” He tapped his finger on the page. “Not kidding about the wild strawberry, buddy. I might order a whole cake of it right now.”

Bucky blinked at him before reaching over and silently handing him Sam’s strawberry cupcake. Clint lit up like Bucky himself was Christmas incarnate.

“Thanks, Peaches!”

“Uh.” Sam held up a hand. “That was mine?”

“Cakes here start at four-fifty,” Bucky informed Clint, ignoring Sam.

 _“_ Four _hundred..._? _”_

“So have a free cupcake instead.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered. _“My_ free cupcake.”

Hunter turned to Bucky, incredulous. “I'm sorry, mate, _how_ much did you say a bloody _cake_ costs? You lunatics are spending almost five-hundred on this thing? I thought you went with Pepper to _avoid_ the expensive lady.”

“We _did,_ but...” Bucky shrugged. “Actually, I said cakes here _start_ at four-fifty. I think our cake is going to cost something like a couple grand? This stuff in general isn’t cheap. ”

All three of his friends stared at him so hard, he wondered for half a second if he’d lapsed and answered them in Russian. Not that he blamed them. He’d about swallowed his tongue when Pepper had gone over the cost details with him. He’d been halfway to texting Steve about eloping when she’d gently brought up that she and Tony had wanted to pay for as much of the wedding as Bucky and Steve would allow as a sort of wedding gift. After talking to Steve, they’d agreed on all of it because, as Steve had put it, they were both too frugal and would just end up making it a lot less special than it could be if they’d tried to been part of the spending process.

One day, he was gonna have to figure out the right way to repay Pepper for every generous thing she — and, begrudgingly, Tony — did for him and Steve. But first she had to _stop_ doing nice things for them.

“You do realize that’s an insane amount for flour and sugar, right?” Sam asked, slipping into his Voice of Reason. Bucky shut him down quick before he could try and talk Bucky out of it and make it sound like it had been Bucky’s idea. Sam was shady like that.

“I get that, but it’s covered; our billionaire friend’s better half said it was. And to be honest, we’re throwing a few frivolous things in because it’s Tony and we like to fuck with him. But, for the most part, the whole day will be very low key — despite Tony’s recent insistence that we should consider two of every animal since, as he put it, we’re as old as the Ark. There’s less than fifty people coming, our wedding and reception locations are _not_ expensive, Emily and Matt from Emily’s Pizza are catering the whole thing — on them, it would seem — so, we can have an expensive cake, a good photographer, and nice suits for everyone —”

Sam waved a hand at him. “Wait, you guys are covering for _our_ suits?”

“Pepper said that’s not usually how it’s done, but...” Bucky gave a helpless shrug. It was stupid enough that he’d roped his friends into his wedding, but making them pay for their own new clothes because of it? Not on his watch.

Sam smiled and sat back with arms folded, apparently satisfied. “Nah, we’re good, then. Because Tony wouldn’t pay for anything less than Armani. And I look _good_ in Armani.”

No way was Bucky taking that bait. Instead he turned back to Clint’s near-illegible scrawl, and re-picked up his Chocolate Stout cupcake. “Okay, men. Our esteemed leader here — who _apparently_ is some secret-ninja cake connoisseur — has turned in his list. Let’s get this done so we can find a bar, and you three can try to, collectively, outdrink me again.”

“One day, Barnes.” Clint glared at him. Bucky smirked in return.

“But I guarantee that day won’t be today.”

~~~~

_You talk to him yet?  — S_

_This was YOUR idea. Why am I having this conversation with him? — B_

_Because I had to be elsewhere. And we can’t wait on it. There might be, I don’t know, CLASSES he has to take or something. — S_

_If he accepts. — B_

_If he accepts??? This is TONY we’re talking about. A chance to be the center of attention at our wedding WITH our permission? You think he’s gonna say no to something like that? — S_

Good point. With a grumble, Bucky shoved his phone back into his pocket as JARVIS announced his arrival on  the penthouse floor. He’d thought Steve had been an absolute lunatic for his suggestion, but after all Tony _had_ done for them, not just with the engagement and wedding, but really everything over the years, he was sort of the perfect person to ask.

They were down to just this side of four weeks now. The venues were booked, they had food taken care of, he was reviewing a few DJs this week (Pepper had thought they would want a band, but Nat had made the point that there was too much good music in the world to be limited by whatever a band could play), clothes were done — at least for them — outside of a final fitting or two, and anybody who they wanted there had been personally contacted. (Invitations were too easy for press to get their hands on.)

Pepper, God bless her, had upended her life to make this process as smooth for Bucky has possible. What she’d managed to accomplish in just the first two weeks was nothing short of a miracle.

His panic attacks were down to every other day now instead of once an hour. Seriously, _bless_ that woman.

But this, though... This had now become the one thing he was dreading. Not that he didn’t agree with Steve about asking Tony, but it wasn’t a small thing, and Tony was going to take this one all the way to the bank.

When he came out of the elevator, he was greeted but a poised, but apologetic-looking Pepper. He stopped, immediately suspicious. “What? Why? What happened?” He glanced around. “Where’s Tony?”

Her eyes softened further, mouth twisted in sympathy. “He got the bug at about three am. He’s been in the lab ever since. He told me he would be here to meet you, but you know Tony. That could mean three hours from now.” She held up her hands and that’s when Bucky finally saw the steaming cup of coffee between her fingers. “I brought you a peace offering.”

All thoughts of Tony and how this would fuck up his day vanished as he about melted at the sight of the delicious goodness. He took it with a grateful, shy smile. “Thanks, Pepper.” He took a sip, only to frown. “Wait, I _know_ this coffee...”

She gave him a little half smirk. “It’s Bitches Brew from that place you like out in L.A.”

“You brought some back with you?”

“Enough for you to take about a three month supply home with you. I also had the beans hermetically sealed so they would stay fresh the whole time.”

That was it. Fuck Steve. He was marrying Pepper.

“I love you,” he blurted out, and instantly felt his face get as hot as the coffee in his hands. “I just mean — this is so great — and you...I mean you just keeping doing all these great things — and I didn’t mean it like _that,_ but you’re just _great,_ and  —”

Bucky’s stammering came to a halt as soft, laughing lips pressed against his cheek. When she leaned back, her eyes were positively twinkling.

“Don’t tell the rest of the team,” she started, her voice as low as a secret, “but you’re sort of my favorite.”

She crinkled her nose at him, and he absolutely _did not_ almost swoon at her feet. He was a grown ass man, dammit.

Instead he ducked down to hide his smile in his coffee.

“Would you like to sit and have some breakfast?”

He looked up, unsure. “Should we maybe just go down to the lab instead? I mean, if you think it’s going to be —”

At that moment the elevator dinged, and JARVIS announced Tony’s arrival. Bucky and Pepper both turned to watch Tony stroll determinedly out of the elevator, his eyes zeroed in on Bucky.

“Oh coffee, perfect.” Just kidding, he was zeroed in on Bucky’s coffee. He reached out like he was about to snatch it right of Bucky’s hand, and oh, hell no. Bucky held it out of reach and narrowed eyes at him.

“Mine, Stark,” he growled. “Pepper made it for me. You get your own.”

“You do realize you’re in _my_ house —”

“There’s more in the kitchen, Tony,” Pepper cut in. “Go get some while Bucky and I sit down, and I order us some breakfast.”

“No time,” Tony said even as he turned toward the coffee maker. “Too busy.”

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. “Tony. This isn’t a short conversation.”

“Well, it has to be. No time to chat, my friend. Can’t let this idea go. Whatever you need to talk about, it’s just going to have to be quick.”

Fuck this — _Bucky_ didn’t have time for this. “Even if what I want to talk about is you officiating our wedding?”

Many many years from now, Bucky would look back on this moment as one of those great regrets, because he would give anything to have made sure he had his phone out to record Tony’s expression.

Because the way he stopped dead in his tracks, slowly pivoted to stare at Bucky, with his usual telltale smug expression washed away entirely in favor of absolute _shock,_ would forever be the thing Bucky wished he’d gotten on film.

Tony pointed a finger at him. “I’m going to need you to repeat that.”

Bucky grinned at Pepper, who was trying valiantly to hide a smile behind her hands, and walked over to sit at the breakfast table. “I _said_ what I wanted to talk to you about was officiating mine and Steve’s wedding.”

“You want me to marry you guys.”

“Yes.”

“This was the thing Steve said he had waiting for me.”

“Yes. I mean, if you think you’re _up_ for the challenge...” Then Bucky shrugged as he tucked himself back into his coffee with a smirk.

“Up for the challenge!” Tony scoffed, walking purposefully to take the seat next to Bucky. “Do I get to wear robes?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. Do I get to write my own speech about you two?”

“With Pepper’s approval.”

“Also fair.” Tony turned to grin at Pepper, who’d gone off to get Tony’s forgotten coffee.

“You’ll need to get ordained, though,” Bucky added. This was the one caveat that he’d been worried about. He wasn’t sure if there’d be time; although Pepper assured him there would be.

“Well, you’re in luck, big guy.” He grabbed Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ve been ordained for _years._ ”

“Excuse me?” Pepper set Tony’s coffee down on the table and leveled him with an accusing glare. “Since when?”

Tony just shrugged and reached for his coffee, only to have Pepper pull it back. With a sigh, he looked up at her. “Back when the palladium core was killing me, I did it one night because, you know, no priest would willingly give _me_ my last rites. Figured I needed to be able to do it myself.”

“Tony, you aren’t Catholic.”

“I was also ready to recite the Shahada.”

“You’re also not Muslim.”

“One can never be too prepared.”

“You also aren’t a preparer.”

Tony gasped. “I resent that. Am I not the one making you an Extremis suit? To _be prepared?_ See? That’s me preparing. I prepare for things.”

“Whatever, Tony.” Pepper shook her head, seemingly exhausted by the conversation. “Anyway, I believe Bucky was trying to talk to you about something.”

“Yes!” Tony turned back to Bucky with a grin. “So, yes, I’m already covered.”

“And you’re _sure_ it’s legit?”

“You _doubt_ —”

“I’ll make sure it is.” Pepper gave Bucky a reassuring smile. “Either way, I’ll see to it that he’s set for your big day.”

Breakfast arrived soon after, and the three spent it going over Tony’s role in the process, but mostly just vetoing all of Tony’s less-than-helpful suggestions (“No, you can’t ride in on a zebra, Tony.” “No, you will _not_ be asking DMX to turn your speech into a rap song for you to perform.” “No, Tony, we want _you_ marrying us, not Iron Man.”).

It was a couple of hours before they finally wrapped up, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice how _involved_ Tony had been in the conversation. He wasn’t the type of man to sit still unless he was injured, and even then, he usually found a way to sneak back down to his lab. But this time, he not only paid attention, but hadn’t twitched an eye toward the elevator once. Hell, he’d even been surprised when Bucky’d said he had to wrap it up to go to a sparring session with Nat and May that afternoon.

“So, you guys _really_ want me for this job?” Tony asked as he shook Bucky’s hand goodbye. “You do realize this is _me,_ right?”

Bucky sighed and gave him a rueful smile. “And _you_ realize you’re one of our _best_ _friends_ , right?”

That pulled Tony right up short, and it may have just been one of the most open smiles Bucky had ever seen on the guy. Twice in one day. Bucky was impressed with himself.

“The thing you have to understand, Tony, is that what you’ve done already for me and Steve? For this wedding, and for our engagement, and hell.” He glanced around. “Just for everything you’ve done for _me_ over the years? We will — _I_ will — never be able to fully say thank you for that. So consider this a start.”

Tony slowly nodded. “I guess you’re right,” he said. Then he broke right into his patented smug smirk. “You probably _won’t_ be able to ever fully say thank you. But it’s okay. I’ve got time.”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “Such an asshole.”

“Have fun getting your ass handed to you this afternoon.”

“Gee thanks.”

“You just sort of seem the type to be into that kind of thing.”

“Bye, Pepper.” He ignored Tony in favor of waving at her, and she waved back from where she was on the phone.

“You and the good Captain like it kinky?”

“I already regret you, Tony,” he said as he walked toward the elevator.

“Hey, Buck Rogers!” Bucky reluctantly turned back. “Are you going with Rogers? Or is he taking Barnes? What about Rogers-Barnes? Or Barnes-Rogers? James Buchanan Barnes-Rogers. God, that’s a mouthful.” He shuddered, then waved a hand at Bucky. “Anyway, I just wanted to say...” He paused and Bucky couldn’t read his expression. “I just wanted to say that...what you guys are asking? It’s _maybe_ one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. Just thought you should know that.”

Bucky smiled warmly at him. “We love you, too, Tony.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky snorted before turning back to the elevator, punching the down button. “We wouldn’t treat you like shit if we didn’t.”

~~~~

A week later found Bucky with the only real downtime he’d seen in weeks. In a fit of boredom, he’d decided to make brownies to take to Mrs. Boone. He wanted to personally deliver her invitation to the wedding, and thought brownies might be a nice touch.

More and more things were coming together — he really did have to hand it to his friends for being there for him. He was actually starting to get excited. Three weeks ‘til the wedding, one week ‘til Steve came home. Things were shaping up nicely.

So, of course, that was when his phone had to ring.

“We have a problem.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted at the sound of Nat’s voice. “What? Hit me with it.”

There was a _really_ uncomfortable silence on the other end.

“Natalia?”

Was it about the wedding? Or worse, had something happened to Steve? Another team member? She needed to _answer him_.

“It seems that someone at the Botanical Gardens let it leak that there would be a high profile wedding there in a few weeks.”

The words took a second to sink in. Seconds where he’d stopped breathing. Seconds where he’d had a flash of relief that everyone was okay, but that quickly gave way to dread.

_Fuck._

“What does that mean?” he managed to croak out. Would they have to postpone the wedding? Let the press in otherwise? He had no idea how to handle this.

“Bucky, honey, I need you to not panic.” He hadn’t even realized his breathing had gone from non-existent to labored. He slid down to the floor and put his head between his knees. He needed Steve.

“What does it _mean?_ ” he repeated, and _fuck it_ if he sounded like he was pleading. He couldn’t _do_ this. “And why are you calling? I love you, but shouldn’t Pepper be calling me?”

“She thought it would go better if you heard it from me.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “Plus, Pepper’s busy doing damage control — working on some ideas. New locations, and how to keep the press at bay.”

“What ideas are those?”

“Well...” And damn, if her voice wasn’t soothing him. “Pepper wants to keep the reservation at the Botanical Gardens, but use it as a decoy. She’s already ordering event supplies from one of the lower end retailers to give the impression of a wedding being set up. She looked into it, and she can secure the Boathouse over there.”

Bucky cracked a tiny smile, because he and Steve really liked the little boathouse in the middle of Prospect, but that was _so close_ to the Gardens. “Won’t the press figure that out since they’re right by each other?”

“Pepper said that it’ll actually work out better because they’re far enough apart that the press won’t see you, while still being able to get the wedding decorations in and out without suspicion, since people are _already_ expecting wedding trucks and the like. She also said Tony’s adding — in his words — ‘enough security to make the ones at the palace of that ungrateful prince Steve’s been hanging out with look like Spears’ idiot detail from ‘06.’ Again, those were his words.”

“What, like he’s going to try and shut the park down or something?”

A beat. “Or something.”

“Why am I not surprised. Do I want to know?”

“Well, let’s just say that SHIELD is now getting into the event security business.”

Bucky let out an uncomfortable laugh. He should have seen that one coming.

“Anyway, Pepper needs to know if that works for you.”

Bucky didn’t mind admitting that he was more than a little unsure. There was no telling if this would actually work, because as smart as Tony and Pepper were, the press was conniving. They might still figure it out, maybe even on the day, when there _especially_ wouldn’t be anything they could do about it.

He wanted Steve. He wanted Steve _home,_ so he could crawl onto his lap and let him convince Bucky that it would all work out. He wanted Steve to take him to bed and help him to forget about all of this stress and nonsense for a few hours. He didn’t know what the right decision was here, and all he wanted was _Steve_ to help him make it.

He still had a whole week to go.

Three weeks until he was supposed to get married and it had been that same amount time since he’d even _seen_ his fiancé. A fiancé he’d had for all of two days.

“Do it,” he said, voice muffled from where his head was resting between his knees. “Just do what you guys have to do. I’m not changing the date, but I _do not_ want the press there.”

“No one wants to change the date either, _kotenok_.”

Bucky let out a hysterical laugh. “Then I guess that’s settled. We’ll just change the location to less than half a mile distance and, you know, pray to God.”

“I love you, you know that, right? We’ve got your back on this. We _will_ make this work.”

He nodded against his knee. “Yeah. I know. I’m gonna go, though, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “You want to meet at the firing range tomorrow? Blow off some steam?”

Bucky smiled, already feeling a bit of the tension drain at the idea of shooting things. “You know me so well.”

“And I always will,” she answered, her chuckle dark. “See you tomorrow?”

“Bye, Nat.”

He ended the call only to turn around and text Steve.

_Press found out. Sort of. We have to change our location. Pepper and Nat are on it. — B_

Steve’s response came almost instantly.

_Are you serious? Are you okay? Where are we having it now? What do you need? — S_

_I’m okay. We’re moving it to the Boathouse. Not happy, though. It’ll be beautiful, I’m sure, but we don’t need this three weeks out. And really, I just want you home. Now. — B_

_I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be worrying you. Just finish your mission and get home. — B_

_I love you, baby. — S_

Bucky stared at the phone and let a tear slip out. “I love you too, Stevie.”

One week to go. He could handle one _fucking_ week.

~~~~

Bucky looped his keys on the hook and set his ammo bag by door. After six hours firing off damn near everything in SHIELD’s arsenal, he felt better, but good God, he needed a shower.

He toed off his shoes and ambled back to the bedroom, only to stop dead in his tracks.

“ _Steve?_ ” he gasped in disbelief at the sight of his fiancé, standing in the middle of the room.

Who was smiling sheepishly at Bucky. “Surprise.”

 _“Steve.”_ Bucky let out a strangled noise before flinging himself into Steve’s arms, grappling on for dear life, legs and all. “Oh my _god..._ ” He kissed all over Steve’s face before landing on his lips, tasting salt from where the tears were streaming freely down his own face. He pulled back to drink in the sight of him. “What — why... How are you _here?_ ”

Steve laughed and kissed him back, just as hard and hungry, holding on just as tight. “After your text yesterday, we turned up the timetable. The mission was almost done anyway, I just sped things along.”

Bucky frowned at him. “Okay, yeah, but was the mission clean?” Bucky would feel horrible if anything went wrong because of him.

Steve smiled at him, soft and assuring, and nodded. “I’m sure of it. I wouldn’t have left Wanda or Vision there if it hadn’t been.”

Whimpering in relief, he leaned back in to capture Steve’s mouth, and it took no time before they started scrambling at each other’s clothes, desperate and needy. He needed Steve in him right now, needed Steve to claim him and for him to claim Steve, and _fuck,_ he just _needed_ him.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered against Steve’s lips as they finished working off the rest of their clothes. “So much. I don’t know how I survived the last three weeks without you.”

“God, I know.” Steve flipped them over and laid Bucky out across the bed, draping his body over Bucky’s. “Missed you like a physical ache. Missed your touch, your taste... every square inch of you.”

“No more separate missions,” Bucky said, fingers tangled in soft blond hair, eyes gazing up into piercing blue. He’d missed Steve too much. “At least not for a long while. Like our, I don’t know, honeymoon promise to each other or something.”

Steve gave him a half smile. “We never did discuss what we wanted to do for a honeymoon.”

“Well, then, that’s it. We just...don’t go anywhere without the other. SHIELD can fuck off. You go, I go with you, and vice versa. We can take a vacation, sure, but _Steve._ The only thing I give a shit about is just making sure I’m not away from you.”

Steve brushed Bucky’s bangs off his forehead, and leaned in for another kiss. This one slow as taffy and full of all the love they shared.

“I promise.”

Then he spent the next several hours keeping exactly that.

~~~~

It was still dark when he woke to the feel of soft lips running lightly along the scars on his shoulder. He smiled, slow and content, even as a small shudder rippled through him at the sensation.

He palmed the back of Steve’s head and turned to place a gentle kiss on his temple. “What time is it?” he murmured.

Steve hummed in response, shifting to lay half on top of Bucky, and tangled their legs together further. He tucked his head under Bucky’s chin. “Sometime around four, I think? I just woke up, realized I was home in bed, with you, and just...needed to get my lips on you again.”

“Got no complaints over here.” Bucky brought his arms around to hold Steve close. _Steve._ In his arms again. It felt like forever.

“What did I miss while I was gone?”

“You mean aside from my almost daily panic attacks?”

“Yeah, aside from those.”

Bucky shook his head, fond. “Well, we’re moving the wedding to the old boathouse, like I said. And apparently Pepper has employed some of our top SHIELD agents to basically stage a massive cloak and dagger with the press and the public to keep them out of our hair.”

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Oh, fuck no. The spy side of me wanted to know, but the recovering side of me doesn’t need the added stress. This has already been an insane three weeks. If I got my hands on those plans, I’d probably try and get _involved._ And that wouldn’t end well. For anybody.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you focusing on that. We’ve got the whole Husband and Husband to Be thing to worry about.”

“There is that.”

“Just a small thing.”

“Really, it’s inconsequential. Not even sure why we care.”

Steve leaned up to smile at him. “So. Mr. Wedding Planner. What else do we have to do? Don’t even pretend you don’t have our entire schedule mapped out.”

Bucky laughed. Steve was more right than he knew. “We have to get the marriage license, do our final fitting when our suits come in next week, settle on a DJ — I have it down to two — our bachelor party, if we want to have one, and then the rehearsal dinner.”

“Bachelor _party? Singular?_ I thought we were each supposed to have a separate one?”

Bucky ticked off his fingers. “One, we have all the same friends. Two, we don’t have _time_ for two parties. Three, I’m surprised you aren’t partied out, yet.” Steve shrugged at that one. “And finally, what part of _we aren’t separating for the foreseeable future_ didn’t you get?”

Steve opened his mouth, only to close it with a smile. He leaned in and gave Bucky a quick kiss. “Good points. All of them. So, thoughts?”

“Well... I, uh, really hope you _aren’t_ completely partied out, because I sort of let Nat and Sam have free rein to plan whatever they wanted.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “And you don’t know what that is?”

“Apparently we aren’t allowed to know.”

_“Christ.”_

Bucky just nodded in solemn solidarity.

Steve groaned as he settled back down on top of Bucky. “And when is our last night on earth supposed to happen?”

“The 19th.” Bucky pressed his lips together in a hard line. “Also, I’m not entirely sure it’ll be our last night on earth. Or, no, I should clarify: It won’t be our last night on _Midgard._ ”

Steve’s head shot back up, eyes wide. _“No...”_

Bucky gave him a commiserating nod. “Afraid so. Or, at least, I think.”

“Asgardian mead.”

“I’m aware.”

“This really won’t end well for us.”

“At least we’ll have each other?”

Steve grumbled as he tucked his head back under Bucky’s chin, “Always knew you’d be the death of me, Barnes.”

~~~~

The next two weeks flew by in a mad, insane rush of last minute details, a surprise cake tasting just so Steve could try all the flavors too, tiny moments of alone time whenever they could grab them, and weirdly enough, work stuff. With Steve back, Bucky no longer felt like everything he was doing was just another round of torture (minus the epic cake-tasting).

They’d quietly snuck into one of the courthouses to get their marriage license taken care of. After a short conversation, they’d both agreed to not file for a name change. They didn’t care about that. They just wanted to be married.

The DJ was even easier. Steve had called one of them, only to promptly hang up on him when Steve had asked if he had any Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday, and the guy had gone, “Who?”

Luckily, the other one knew who they were. Bucky wasn’t sure what they would have done if Steve had ended up hanging up on both of the prospective DJs.

Fittings were done for everyone, there hadn’t been any new issues with the venue, Emily had delivered a sample of their food menu that had blown both Steve and Bucky away, and honestly, as much as he thought their high-end pizza joint was just about the greatest thing in this century, he was completely dumbfounded as to why they weren’t opening some classy five-star joint in Midtown.

It was officially one week and one day to go — the dreaded 19th — and the pair were riding the elevator straight up to the roof of the Tower. They’d been told, if they intended on going to their bachelor party (like that was an option?), they had to be on the roof at exactly seven pm, sans any valuables. They’d left everything except their wallets in their apartment.

“We’re going to Asgard.”

“You don’t know that. We could be getting on a quinjet.”

“We’re going to Asgard, Steven.”

“You know, I’ve had Thor’s booze. Here. On earth. No reason to go to a _different realm_ for that. We could be having that here.”

“You don’t honestly believe we aren’t going to Asgard, do you?”

Steve went stiff next to him. “No. I don’t.”

“Stevie, if we die tonight, I just want you to know, you were always my favorite.”

Steve turned to smile at him. “Mine too, baby.” The doors opened right onto the roof, and sure enough, all the usual suspects were waiting. Hell, even Fury and Coulson had made it to...whatever this was. “See you on the flipside?”

Bucky leaned in for a kiss and squeezed Steve’s hand. “Into eternity, my love.”

“Barnes! Rogers!” Natasha shouted at them and crooked a finger. They didn’t hesitate to head over. They’d accepted their fate.

She gave them the once over. “At attention, soldiers.”

Like Pavlov’s _fucking_ dog, they both snapped into position.

“Yes, ma’am?” Steve said with a nod.

She smiled wickedly at them and then snapped her fingers. Clint and Hunter appeared next to her, wearing matching feral grins. Clint was holding up two pieces of black cloth, and Hunter, a single pair of handcuffs.

“Your mission,” she started, voice low and dangerous. “Should you choose to accept it —”

“Maybe not so much anymore,” Bucky cut in, without thinking. He turned wide eyes on Steve, who was still eyeing the items in Hunter and Clint’s hands.

“Quiet, soldier!” Nat barked at him. Then she gave him a smirk. “You came to the roof. Your mission is already accepted.”

“And that mission would be?” Steve asked, eyes _still_ on Hunter and Clint.

“Why... To go out with a bang, of course.”

Bucky suddenly felt cool metal sliding up his back, only to be replaced by cold air. “What the —” He stumbled forward, then turned to see Sam with the scissors he’d just used on Bucky, now sliding up the back of Steve’s shirt, as well.

“What the hell...?”

“Prep ‘em, boys!” Nat bellowed, and the next thing Bucky knew, he and Steve were being man-handled, the remains of their shirts pulled off, blindfolds going on. Finally, they were handcuffed together.

Bucky was equal parts horribly afraid and terribly intrigued. He should have known that when your friends were some of the smartest and most well-renowned, _creative_ spies and warriors in the universe, there was no way this was going to be a simple trip of steaks and strip clubs in Vegas.

 _“Steve,”_ Bucky whispered.

Fingers slipped into his and clasped tight. “Right there with you, baby.”

“Thor, we’re ready,” Nat said, this time from somewhere behind him.

And _fuck._ They _were_ going to Asgard!

“Heimdall!” Thor called out, and the next thing he knew, they were flying.

~~~~

 

What happens on Asgard, _stays_ on Asgard.

 

~~~~

Bucky groaned, deep and guttural, as he used every last ounce of strength he had in _both_ hands to push himself up two inches off the floor. The sun — was that the earth’s sun? It looked like it — shone brightly through the window. Painfully so. He slowly turned his head (aw _god_ , that _hurt)_ to see he was back in their apartment in the Tower.

And huh. He was naked. Like, really really naked. And still handcuffed to Steve. Who was also naked. And who was currently passed out sideways across their comfy chair, head and feet dangling over opposite ends. He was also snoring like a fucking freight train, and it set Bucky’s teeth on edge. He wondered if it might be wrong to punch Steve until he stopped. Problem was, that would require effort. Effort he currently did not have.

With another groan, just as deep and just as guttural, Bucky lowered himself back to the ground and promptly passed right back out again.

~~~~

Monday morning. Two days later, and Bucky _still_ felt like he’d been sucker-punched by God.  They’d left on Friday night, and had returned at _some_ point on Sunday. When he finally woke up enough to break the cuffs off with his metal hand, and get them into bed, it had been dark out. But he was sure he’d woken up at least once or twice and had seen daylight.

Maybe they’d actually come back on _Saturday_ and had just been passed out the whole time. He honestly had no clue.

“How much do you remember?” he mumbled from where his head was pillowed against the kitchen table. He didn’t need to look to know Steve was in the same position right next to him.

“I remember leaving.”

Bucky snorted, only to groan as it jostled his already splitting headache. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Words.”

“ _You_ stop words.”

“Do remember ever getting this fucked up during the war?”

“Couldn’t get fucked up during the war.”

“Oh. Right.” Bucky wiggled over and shoved his arm under Steve’s so he could loop them together, much to Steve’s grunting annoyance “I don’t remember ever getting this fucked up during the war.”

“Where did our clothes go?”

“No idea. But I saw our wallets stacked on the counter. So it _definitely_ happened when we were with everyone.”

“Excellent.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“We’re getting married this weekend.”

Soft lips pressed against his arm. “We are. ‘m so excited. Are you excited?”

“If I could feel my face, I’d be excited.”

“’s cause you got the crappy serum. I can at least feel my face.”

“Jealous.”

Five days ‘til the wedding. Four ‘til the rehearsal dinner. Three days ‘til all the details needed to be done. Which gave them exactly two more days to recover.

Bucky had this. After all, he had Steve by his side. And as long as Steve was with him, the rest was cake.


	3. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big fat giant _thank you_ to [boopboop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/boopboop) for writing the description of _the_ suits. Go praise her for her suit porn.  
>  ~~~~

Bucky jolted awake to a room full of blackness and an empty space by his side. He blinked the world into focus, disoriented, as he tried to figure out what had woken him, and where Steve —

“Oh, god, baby. Sorry,” Steve whispered, frozen mid-step in the middle of the room. Bucky could just barely make out the wide eyes staring back at him. “Did I wake you?”

“Mhm.” Bucky sucked in a deep breath as he tried to form words. “Why’re’u up?”

Steve gave him a wan smile as he sat on the edge of the bed. Bucky stiffened when he saw that Steve was fully dressed.

“Bad dream. I couldn’t sleep.” Steve lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Thought maybe I’d go down to the warehouse and paint for a while.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. It was two days until their wedding, they had their rehearsal the next day, and they had to pick up their suits later that day. They were only _now_ starting to feel normal from the previous weekend.

And suddenly Steve was having bad dreams.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked slowly. It was too close to their wedding to beat around the bush. “I mean, are _we_ okay?”

“What?” Steve stared at him before his eyes went wide in understanding. “Oh. No! Oh, baby, _no._ ” He took Bucky’s face in his hands and kissed him, deep and heartfelt. Then he pulled back just enough to press a kiss to Bucky’s temple. “No, we’re fine. Really, I swear. It was just a run-of-the-mill bad dream, but then I started thinking of _everything_ we still need to get done, and my brain wouldn’t shut down. Thought maybe painting for a few hours would calm me down enough to at least get a bit more rest.”

Bucky would freely admit to the way his heart unclenched. He cupped Steve’s nape and pulled him in for another kiss, this one softer and full of understanding. “You sure you don’t wanna work here? Then you can come crash with me when you’re ready.”

“I’d love to, but I have an idea kicking around and it requires stuff at the warehouse.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Steve quietly laughed. “I think at least _one_ of us should get some sleep. We can’t both be dead on our feet later.”

“Oh gee, thanks.” Bucky snorted and lightly pinched Steve’s hip. “Leave _me_ with all the heavy lifting, why don’t you.”

“Well, you do have this nifty metal arm...”

 _“Not_ for carrying your sorry ass around.”

Steve laughed before pulling Bucky in for a hug. Bucky wrapped tight arms around him and breathed him in, steady and content, despite the looming deadline and everything they had to do between now and the wedding. It was fine. Whatever did or didn’t get done, he and Steve were still getting married this weekend. That was enough to put one foot in front of the other.

“All right, go.” He pulled back with a little shove, but not before one last kiss. He smiled reassuringly at Steve. “Go decompress.”

A smile and a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, and Steve was out the door, off for his own quiet time.

The second he was gone, Bucky’s smile slipped right off his face. He was already itching at Steve’s absence, still on edge after Steve had been gone for so long. He tried to lay back down — go back to sleep, like Steve had been hoping — but it was just...too quiet. No shifting next to him, or the soft snuffling noises Steve made in his sleep. The place suddenly felt _empty._

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but sleep wasn’t having him. Not tonight. But then, maybe now was as good a time as any to call Thor.

“Uh, Heimdal?” Bucky called out into the empty room. He felt so stupid, but Thor had promised him that Heimdal would hear him. “If, um...if Thor’s done, can you send him down for me? Just, uh, have him land on the roof — no, wait!” He shook his head, because _bad idea._ He didn’t want to run the risk Steve would see the Bifrost opening up over Brooklyn. “Um, actually, can you have him land at the Tower or something and then fly over here? Uh. Thanks.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and waited, his foot tapping as he twisted his fingers. He tried to stay calm, because really, this was all going to work out. It _had_ to work out. He could not be the guy who fucking _forgot_ to get his fiancé a goddamn _wedding ring._

When the buzzer sounded twenty minutes later, Bucky about jumped out of his skin from the noise. He scrambled to get the door, only realizing halfway that there was no one in the apartment to wake up. It pulled Bucky up short just long enough to take a deep breath before yanking the door open —

— to find Thor down on one knee, holding up a black box — steel of some sort —  smiling that wolfish smile of his that had way too much humor and mischief for three o’clock in the morning.

“Seriously?” Bucky couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or slam the door in Thor’s face.

“Oh, but my fair James. Will you not have me?”

Bucky just shook his head. “I hate you so much.” He turned back, letting Thor follow him in. “You really need to stop taking lessons from Steve, you know that?”

“Actually, I believe you will find that to be more Barton’s humor than anything else.”

“Yeah, well, you’re all trolls,” Bucky muttered under his breath. He flipped on the lights as he headed over to the couch. Then he turned hopeful eyes on Thor because, this here, was the moment where Thor was gonna save his ass.

When Bucky had woken up a few days before, he’d panicked at a cryptic message he’d found in his wallet, in Thor’s lilting scrawl:

_Have no fear, brother, I shall have the ring ready for you in two days’ time. Just call for Heimdal._

He’d stared at the note for a long time because, _what_ ring? What was Thor _talking_ about? He'd even glanced down at his own hand, scared something had happened to his _own_ ring, only to find it exactly where it was supposed to be.

He’d had his finger poised, about to call Jane, when it had hit him, cold, ice slithering down his back.

He’d forgotten to get Steve a ring.

He’d forgotten to get Steve a _fucking_ ring.

Their wedding was days away, and Bucky had _no_ ring to give Steve — not unless he went to a jeweler and just randomly picked one out of a case. But Steve had had Bucky’s ring _forged,_ for crying out loud. Steve deserved better than some mass-produced, _common_ trinket.

Bucky had called Jane in a panic, anyway.

It was a good thing Steve — and Bucky, but really, Steve — had no memory of the bachelor party, because apparently he’d been there when that very subject came up. Though Jane refused to give him any details about the weekend (“Sorry, Bucky, but it’s probably for your own good that you don’t remember”), she did at least tell him that Thor had asked if he could make the ring for Steve, and promised to have it ready by Wednesday or Thursday.

He damn near cried after that. Would have kissed her (and Thor) if either of them had been with him in the bathroom he’d locked himself in to make the call.

And Thor was here, now. With a very tiny metal box.

Bucky pointed at it as Thor sat down next to him. “Please, if you have any mercy on me at all, you’ll open that thing and show me that I won’t be single again by this weekend.”

Thor laughed. “You do not really believe Steven would leave you over something as trivial as this, do you?”

“He would if I forced him to. Because I’m horrible. And if he didn’t shun me, I’d shun myself.”

“James,” Thor began with a sigh. His eyes softened and he placed a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Steven loves you, and no amount of silver or gold shall ever change that. Nor any amount of uru or ondar, as is contained in this box.” He held it out for Bucky to take.

Bucky had no idea what to expect when he opened it — he hadn’t heard of ondar, but he knew Thor’s hammer was made of uru — and what he saw caught his breath, a lump instantly rising in his throat.

Aside from his own, it was probably the most beautiful ring Bucky had ever seen. It was made up of an inner metal that acted as a housing for the outer metal running down the middle of the ring. The inside part was black, smoothed and polished to perfection. The part running around the middle of the outside was an opaque charcoal gray that looked like tiny rivulets of liquid cascading around the ring, giving a feel of movement, even where there was none.

“I think I can guess that the inside is the uru, but I’ve never seen it so smooth before.” Bucky looked up, questioningly. “And I don’t think you’ve ever told me about ondar.”

“You really do not remember _any_ of your party this weekend, do you?” Thor asked, shaking his head. “We indeed discussed this in great detail, but it does not matter. I’ll explain.” He took the ring and held it up, letting the soft light overhead dance across the edges of the ring. “You are correct about the uru. It is not usually made in this fashion, but then, it is usually used for weaponry on my world. Like Steven’s shield, it is nearly unbreakable. But as this was to be Steven’s ring, I had it polished for you. As for the ondar, it is one of the rarest metals on Asgard, only found in the ocean’s depths. The water forms it like this, and we never change its shape. It is too beautiful as is to change.” He handed the ring back to Bucky. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Bucky breathed. He carefully slipped the ring back into its box. “I have to ask, though, how in the world did you get this made so fast?”

“Well, if I may be so bold, we do have some of the best blacksmiths in the nine realms,” Thor said with an effacing smile. “Their skill is unmatched in speed and efficiency. It was no trouble at all.”

Bucky nodded, appeased for now.  But, once the insanity of the wedding had passed, Bucky was gonna have to sit Thor down and have him explain more fully how things worked on Asgard. That or maybe he and Steve _would_ just take that honeymoon — go kill some time in another realm.

He gripped Thor’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you,” he said, firmly. “You seriously saved my ass, you know that?”

“Honestly, James. It was no trouble.”

“But, yeah...I mean, you’ll at least let me pay you for it, right?”

Thor just laughed, and stood up. “Another thing, it would seem, you don’t remember.” He headed toward the door — Bucky right behind him — shaking his head the whole way. He turned back and smiled, eyes warm and full of affection. “While we have all indeed made a pact not to inform you of the events of this past weekend, I feel I would not be remiss in telling you that I offered this to you as a wedding present. This is my gift to you.”

“But I...” Bucky looked down at the box in his hand. “You said this was made from one of the most precious metals on Asgard. That can’t be cheap.”

“James, my dear friend, you seem to be forgetting something very important.”

“And what’s that?”

“I am the first Prince of Asgard. The palace owns all of the unpurchased metals in our world. That ring you’re holding?” He winked at Bucky as he opened the door. “Technically that ring was free.”

Bucky squawked indignantly as Thor barked out a laugh and headed out. “Cheapskate!” Bucky called after him with a laugh, the door shutting in his face.

He turned back to the little box in his hand and opened it up again. The ring really was breathtaking, and _now_ maybe Steve wouldn’t leave him for being a dumbass and Pepper wouldn’t scold him for being so forgetful. She _had_ mentioned it at the beginning, but the sheer number of things his fragmented brain was supposed to remember these past few weeks would make a lesser man cry.

But he was Bucky Barnes. And he had friends in (extremely, insanely, out of this world) high places. And thank fuck for that.

With a satisfied little smile, he took the ring and tucked it into his side table by the bed. He wasn’t worried about Steve finding it, but he still wasn’t about to leave it just sitting around.

With one more thing checked off, he slid back into bed and _finally_ drifted off to sleep.

~~~~

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, and sized up his appearance. Apparently, when dealing with the kind of professionals Tony had in his arsenal, notes like ‘so it’s gotta work with his cool robot arm’ didn’t warrant a reaction beyond ‘as you wish, sir’ in a snooty accent, and an extra inch let into the sleeve of his left arm.

Tony had told him that a good suit could make a man three inches taller and twenty pounds lighter, but Bucky hadn’t believed him until just now, as he stared in awe at just how _normal_ he looked. Not in the literal sense — not when he was rocking a fossil-gray suit that was practically indecent in the way it hung, slim cut and sleek. But in the way it made him feel when he looked at his reflection. Not a machine dressing up as a man, not as a weapon or an assassin or a soldier, but an ordinary man about to get married.

It was probably the nicest thing he’d ever put on in his life, not that that was saying much. But still.

He looked _good._

“Gotta hand it to your tailor, here, Stark,” Bucky called out from his dressing room. Tony was checking on Steve at the moment. “Don't think I've looked this good since a honeypot mission in ‘64.”

He _did_ look good. But something just felt...off. He turned this way and that, took in the fine lines and expert cut. It was perfect. He _looked_ perfect — perfect for Steve. Except for how he didn't _feel_ perfect, and he couldn't put his finger on why.

“Hey, Stevie!” he shouted.

“Yeah!”

“How’s yours look?”

“Perfect.” Of course it did. “Yours?”

“Same.” Sort of. Then: “Wanna see?” Maybe Steve could figure out why he didn't feel right in it.

“Sure!”

“No!” A second later, Tony came crashing into his room. “You're not supposed to see each other before the big day. Pepper taught you this. I _know_ Pepper taught you this.”

Bucky snorted, even as he hopped down from his platform. “Yeah, yeah. Tradition and all that. But, Tony.” He clamped a metal hand down on Tony's shoulder, relishing in the small _oomph_ he got for it. “You of all people should know that tradition is a waste of time. We're busy men. We've got...avenging and shit to do. And besides” — he strode past Tony — “I need Steve's opinion...”

The words died in his throat at the sight of his fiancé — his glorious, beautiful, _stunning_ fiancé — standing up on his platform in a suit that bordered on _obscene,_ the way it hugged the solid, muscled lines of his body like a particularly jealous lover.

Their tailor, Martin, despite over sixty years in the business, had still gone a little misty-eyed when he’d been presented with Steve’s measurements. And Steve’s suit, the way it clung to him like he was damn-near painted into it, definitely reflected that sort of loving adoration. The wool suit (charcoal, to compliment Buck’s fossil gray) was elegant and smooth, and fucking hell, no one had the right to look as good as Steve did in a traditional button vest. It was much more modern than Steve and Bucky were used to, with a single breasted cut and three button design, but good _lord,_ did it ever work.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he would ever be able to stop staring.

“Great,” Tony grumbled from behind him. “Surprise over. Wedding ruined, _marriage_ ruined. I give it three months. Tops.”

“Mr. Barnes, may I help you?” Martin asked as he stood up from where he’d been futzing with the hem of Steve’s pants.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed, ignoring Tony and Martin entirely. “You look...” His brain completely blanked out; he could think of _nothing_ to describe how amazing Steve looked. But _damn_ , did he ever.

“Yeah.” Steve was staring right back, full of awe. He waved a hand at Bucky, and Bucky watched his adam’s apple work as he visibly swallowed. “You look — I mean, that suit...” He cleared his throat and Bucky couldn't help but smirk. “You, uh, you look real nice, Buck.”

 _“Nice.”_ Tony squawked. “Excuse you, Rogers, that _nice suit_ costs more than you two made during the whole of —”

Bucky waved Tony off as all thoughts of Steve's opinion went flying out the window. He sauntered up onto the platform, Steve's eyes raking him over, and Bucky returning the leer in kind.

He ran his hands across broad shoulders, the fabric like butter under his fingertips, and settled them over strong biceps. “Look nice, huh? Is that all I am? Somethin’ nice?”

It took Steve a second to find his words.

“Actually.” The longer he stared at Bucky the darker his pupils became. “The thing is, I'm _actually_ standing here feelin’ kinda upset that your suit’s one-of-a-kind.”

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

The look Steve gave him barely belonged in the bedroom, let alone a very _public_ tailor’s shop. “Because it’s gonna be kinda hard to replace two days before our wedding when I rip you out of it.”

Oh good _god._

Bucky burst out laughing, long and loud, because _seriously._ He leaned in and kissed Steve, laughing against his lips. “That line usually work for you, sweetheart?”

“I don't know, you tell me.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. “Not too sure that one's gonna get you laid at the moment.”

Steve smiled and nipped at his bottom lip. “Damn.”

“It’ll _also_ land you with a hefty bill, seeing as how _I’m_ not paying for it.” Tony glared at them both, only to shrug when they just stared him down. “Right. Fine. I can see where I’m not wanted.” He turned and nodded at Martin. “Come on, Marty, show me the new collection of cufflinks you just got in.”

Martin gave them a wary eye, but diligently followed Tony out. The guy had been in the business long enough to know when his presence wasn’t required.

They turned back to each other, drinking in the sight of just how good they looked.  But while they truly did look amazing (Martin knew his shit), Bucky’s mind still wandered back to why he'd come in here.

“So, hey,” he started, and couldn't help noticing the way Steve’s eyes turned serious. Assessing. Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Do you think... I mean I know we've established we look amazing, but... Do you think we look _right_?”

“Right?”

“Mhm.” He gave Steve another kiss. “Do you think these suits are, I don't know... _us_?”

Steve stepped back and looked Bucky over, head to toe, in a slow gaze. “You think this isn’t the right look for us?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Bucky turned them so they were facing the rounded wall of mirrors. “Something about them doesn’t feel off to you?”

“I don’t know...” Steve turned this way and that. “I mean, these are _really_ nice suits, but I guess...” He turned back to Bucky and shrugged. “I don't know...maybe it’s the color?”

Bucky huffed in frustration. “I thought that, but, I mean, I picked gray suits _because_ we look good in them.” He waved a hand at Steve. “And I’m pretty damn sure you have a suit at home that exact same shade?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“So then what is it?”

“Honestly?” Steve gave Bucky another helpless shrug. “I have no idea.” He turned back to assess them again in the mirror. “But I do get what you’re saying.”

“It’s two days before the wedding, Steve...”

“I know.”

“We can’t start over with new suits.”

“Or go shopping for regular ones.”

Bucky snorted. “Stark would have us killed if we did. And he knows people.”

Steve shrugged again. “I think that means we have to wear them.”

Bucky was afraid Steve would say that. But really, there was simply _no time_ to deal with...whatever it was that was bugging them. The suits themselves were a perfect cut, the right shades of gray for both of them, and they complimented each other where they stood together on the platform.

And yet.

With a sigh, Bucky pulled Steve into a hug. “At least we know we’ll kill it this weekend.”

“We’ll be the two best dressed assholes in the house.”

Bucky smiled. “Now you’re talkin’.”

~~~~

It wasn’t until the next afternoon, when Steve was outright _abusing_ the few free hours they had to go off and paint (when they _could’ve_ been having sex), that Bucky figured it out.

He was standing in their closet, trying to figure out what they were going to wear to dinner that night, when a hint of green caught the corner of his eye.

He yanked his phone out and called Nat.

“You _better_ not be calling me mid-orgasm.”

Bucky snorted. “No, I’m by myself. Steve ditched me for art.”

“You could still be calling me mid — wait, why? We made _sure_ you guys had some free time this afternoon? Why aren’t you two fucking like bunnies, or something?”

“Because when Steve gets a bug up his ass about something he has to paint or sculpt or whatever, the only stress relief he has is his art. Known that about him since we were kids. Now can we move this along to why I called you?”

“So disappointed in you...”

“Whatever.” Bucky waved a hand, then realized Nat couldn’t see him and just shook his head. _“Anyway,_ so I have a question.” He bit his lip nervously. “Um, how much do you think Tony will kill me if I don’t show up in the suit he had made?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line that was simply _not helpful to his nerves, Nat._

“What would you wear instead?” she asked slowly.

“Um...” He held up the hanger in his hand. “My dress uniform?”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“That green uniform of yours.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“You want to wear _that_ instead of the several-thousand-dollar suit that was made exactly for you.”

“Well, _technically_ our uniforms are bespoke too, since we had to, you know, give our measurements for them and everything.”

“Smartass.” Then she paused again, and _seriously, Nat._ Her pauses were one of the few things in life that genuinely made him break out in a sweat.

Finally: “I think that might just be the best idea you’ve had during this whole planning process.”

“So, it’s really a bad — wait, what?” He couldn’t have heard her right. “You think this is a _good_ idea?” He glanced over the smooth lines of his dress greens and tried to relax. She was on board. “You agree with me?”

She sighed. “Okay, first, it’s going to be funny as hell to watch Tony turn puce when you walk out in something _other_ than that suit. Not just because you’re basically chucking his money to the wind, but also because he thinks, when it comes to, well _anything,_ no idea is better than his. Second, and honestly, babe, I can’t think of a better way to honor your relationship with Steve. As much as there’s a lot of bad memories associated with it, you can’t deny that the war is the reason you guys are getting this chance right now. So, you’re going to wear the uniform that takes it back to the beginning, and I think that’s perfect.” She sniffed a little. “Also, I’m kind of pissed Pepper and I didn’t think of it earlier.”

Bucky cleared his throat, touched. “Well, to be fair, we have been planning a pretty elaborate wedding in a really short period of time. Things were bound to slip through the cracks.” He resolutely _did not_ think of the ring in his nightstand. “I’m just lucky the damn thing is _clean._ ”

“Thank god for small miracles. Do you need it pressed, though?”

He held it up and examined it. The last time he’d worn it was for Picture Day at SHIELD, and then he’d just been in and out of it. That said, there were a few wrinkles in the pants, and really, anything to make it look perfect, he’d appreciate.

“It could use a once over, and honestly, I probably should try it on really quick, make sure it’s up to snuff,” he answered. “Can you have someone come by and pick it up?”

“I’ll come get it,” she replied. “You go take a walk. If you two aren’t de-stressing in the naked way, you should still be doing _something_ to clear your head. Seriously, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She had a point. “Yeah, okay. You got your key? It’ll be hanging in my closet.” He didn’t need it laying out on the chance Steve came home early.

“Yes, and done.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Nat. I owe you a million and a half.”

She snorted. “You owe me more than that. All in good time, _kotenok.”_

“I fear you.”

She just laughed and hung up. He shook his head at the phone before shoving it in his pocket. She was right, he needed to get out. When Steve had come back, he’d promised he and Bucky wouldn’t be separated, only to turn around and ask for this one exception for him to go paint at the warehouse alone. Bucky would have been worried, but truthfully, Steve really _did_ need his alone time when it came to his artwork, and the last thing Bucky wanted to be was a distraction when Steve got lost in the process. It was like him at the firing range. He got it.

And there was an idea. A couple hours at the range sounded just about like _magic_ right about now.

He wasted no checking to make sure his uniform fit before grabbing his ammo bag and getting the fuck out of dodge

~~~~

“James Buchanan Barnes, I swear to _Christ,_ do _not_ make us late to our own rehearsal dinner!”

Bucky peeked his head around the bathroom door from where he’d been styling his hair. Steve was standing in the middle of their bedroom, fully dressed, and giving his best Disappointed Glare — a look that hadn’t worked on Bucky since 1932.

“You know, is it really necessary for you to bellow at me from twenty feet away?” He tapped his ear. “Super soldier hearing, jackass. I can hear you from a _mile_ away.”

“You know, you _say_ that, but I’m starting to wonder if the serum isn’t wearing off on you.” Steve folded his arms, and it took everything Bucky had not to start laughing. “You don’t hear what I say half the time, and” — he glanced down at his watch — “you _definitely_ seem to have issues with time displacement.”

Bucky gasped in mock horror. _“Time displacement,_ Steven, I was in _cryo._ ”

“Yeah, not gonna work, asshole.”

Bucky moved to stand fully in the doorway, and reveled in the way Steve tried — and failed — to keep his eyes above Bucky’s waist. He bit back a smile, and instead pointed an accusing finger at him. “First off, I hear just fine. I just choose to tune _you_ out when you start nagging me — which, gotta say, way to get started on that _before_ we’re even married.” He smiled wide, all teeth. “Second, it’s not like I _planned_ to run into SHIELD’s new weapons specialist. And _I’m_ not the one who challenged me to a little target practice. Which I won, by the way.”

“Did you make him cry?”

Bucky shrugged. “Only a little. He thought he knew more about modern weaponry than me.”

“And you felt making the new head of our weapons division cry was a better use of your time than coming home and getting ready?”

“Your dad face amuses no one, you know.” Bucky laughed at the indignant look on Steve’s face, and before Steve could respond, Bucky walked over and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’ll be ready in five minutes, you nut job. And we’re allowed to be late. It’s _our_ rehearsal dinner.”

Steve’s eyes suddenly went wide as he huffed out a breath. _“Wow.”_

“What?”

“Our _rehearsal dinner._ ”

Bucky smiled affectionately at Steve’s complete one-eighty and leaned in to give him a light kiss. “Mhm. We’re getting _married,_ Stevie.”

“We _are,”_ Steve whispered. Then he gave Bucky a wide smile. “We’re getting married, baby. Tomorrow.”

Bucky laughed. “Tomorrow.” Then he captured Steve’s lips in a heartfelt kiss.

It was finally here. Bucky couldn’t believe that just six weeks before Steve had been proposing, and now it was _here_. And more than just six weeks, it was a century in the making for them. People heard stories all the time of people finally taking the chance late in their lives to marry, but Steve and Bucky, despite that being technically true for them, still had their whole lives _in front_ of them. They were getting to do the impossible.

Bucky leaned back and looked at Steve, serious. “You know I will never take you for granted, right? Not you, or this life we have, or what we’re about to do tomorrow, and everything that comes after. I want you to know that I always have, and always will, cherish having you by my side.”

Steve smiled softly, even has his eyebrows pulled in confusion. “I don’t think you take me for granted.”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure I took the opportunity to tell you.”

Steve pressed their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“Same.” He kissed Steve again. “Always.”

“Always.” Then he turned Bucky around before giving him a swat on the ass. “Now go finish getting ready so we can get this part over with. I wanna get to tomorrow.”

Bucky was the luckiest sonofabitch alive.

~~~~

“Okay, but it's _less_ fun when neither of them can get drunk,” Nat said, then shrugged. “They might as well be chugging water.”

“No, you're missing the point,” Steve replied. “We can't get drunk, but we can still feel the burn. Plus —”

 _“Plus_ we're over-sensitive in a lot of ways,” Bucky cut in. He gave Steve a tiny nudge. “We'd probably feel it _more_ going down than you would.”

“Then why have we not had a vodka chugging contest?”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other. “Uh, alcohol poisoning, maybe?”

“But you _just said_ —”

“I think princess here is talking about you, sweetie,” Clint answered with a soft laugh, only to cower under Nat’s glare.

“First” — she brandished her fork at him — “don't call me sweetie.” Then she turned her weapon on Bucky, who couldn't help but flinch back into Steve’s side. “I'm more Russian that you are, _mudak._ Name the date and I will kick your ass.”

Hunter laughed from the other end of the table. “Love, wasn't it _just you_ who pointed out that Bucky can't get drunk?”

“Asgard says otherwise.”

“Speaking of which —” Steve started, only to be cut off by Sam.

“Natasha. We like you being among the living, okay? And — _and,”_ Sam waved her off as she opened her mouth to reply, “we would like you to _stay_ that way. You're already the most badass of all of us —”

“Excuse you,” Tony cut in.

“— so there's no need to _prove_ to anyone here that you are.”

Natalia eyed him shrewdly before finally giving a curt nod. She sat back and folded her arms, all smugness. “Well, as long as it's already recognized, I'm good.”

Bucky burst out laughing. He leaned into Steve as a strong arm slipped across his shoulders, solid and comforting. Lips pressed into his hair, and Bucky honestly couldn't remember a moment in his life when he felt more happy and content than this. Right here, this was it. This was what life was supposed to be about. Good friends, good food, a beautiful view, and the love of your life right at your side. This was heaven.

The dinner party was only a small handful of people — just the immediate wedding party and their dates. They’d see the rest of their friends tomorrow. And for all of Steve’s bitching about being late, their rehearsal dinner and rehearsal were actually being held on the roof of their apartment building. The garden and pool area were serene, and the view of Manhattan from under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges was breathtaking. It also helped that every tenant in the building had signed an iron-clad, Stark Industries attorneys-backed NDA upon moving in, which meant that even if their neighbors knew what was going on, they were staring at a multi-million-dollar lawsuit if they talked.

Pepper had had the event catered by River Cafe, which was just around the corner from their apartment. It was more than either Bucky or Steve would normally spend for a meal, but this was a special occasion, and just another thing they were keeping their mouths shut about. Neither had the balls to ask Pepper how much was being spent in total, and it really was for the best. Besides, Steve loved the duck from River, and honestly, anything Steve loved, Bucky was on board with.

Steve leaned around Bucky to take a bite of his dinner before settling back down. He turned to eye Pepper. “So you’re _sure_ we’re all set for tomorrow? There’s nothing you need from Bucky and I to help stave off the press?”

“You _question_ my lady’s —”

Pepper waved a hand at Tony to cut him off and smiled at Steve. “Everything is taken care of. If SHIELD does their job, you guys shouldn’t even notice anything is amiss.”

“They won’t notice,” Maria confirmed, and sipped her wine, a smug smile painted across her face. She was Sam’s date for the evening, as well as the head of the team responsible for the Ocean’s 11-style Prospect Park takedown that was happening tomorrow. “We aren’t the best in the world for nothing.”

“And you aren’t going to tell us at least a _little_ bit about what’s happening?” Bucky asked hopefully. Okay, yes, he’d _said_ he didn’t want to know, but curiosity was winning out over anything else.

Frustratingly, Maria just shook her head. “Nope. Sorry, Barnes. You two have enough on your plates. Just let us handle this, and I promise you, no one who _shouldn’t_ know _will_ know who’s getting married tomorrow.” She inclined her head. “I’ll tell you what, though. Feel free to ask me about it afterwards. Honestly, I’m too impressed with myself _not_ to share it with you.”

Bucky grinned at her. “You’re on.”

But Steve still sighed. “Okay, but are you _sure_ you’ve accounted for _every_ variable?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond, but Bucky just placed a hand on Steve’s knee and turned to gently kiss his jaw. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m sure they’ve got this.”

“We really do, Steve,” Bobbi added and Hunter nodded. “Tomorrow _will_ go off without a hitch.”

“I just don’t like not knowing _anything_ about how this is going down.”

“That’s the tactician in you talking, Stevie.”

“And you’re saying that it doesn’t bother you at all that you don’t know the plan tomorrow either?” Steve asked quietly, barely loud enough for even Bucky to hear.

Which, Steve had a point. Steve wasn’t just _a_ leader; he was _the_ leader. Their leader. And nine times out of ten, Bucky knew whatever the plan was because _Steve_ knew it. Now neither of them did. They were having to put their faith in their team, which — it wasn’t like they didn’t trust their friends. But they’d spent too long taking orders from people who either weren’t giving them the full picture or weren’t giving them any sort of choice at all. He could see why Steve was uneasy about it.

But the truth was, the only thing — the _only_ thing — Bucky cared about right now was marrying Steve. Franky, at this point, he didn’t care if the entire world’s press showed up, just as long as they didn’t interrupt the proceedings. By this time tomorrow, come hell or high water, Steve _would_ be his husband. Bucky would make sure of it.

He took a deep breath and cupped Steve’s cheek. “To be honest, no. For once, I think I’m...yeah, I’m okay. This isn’t taking down some world regime; this is our _wedding._ And our friends want to make it as perfect as possible. How could I be bothered by that?”

Steve searched Bucky’s face before letting out a resigned laugh. “My god.” He placed a hand over Bucky’s before resting his forehead against Bucky’s temple. “I cannot get over how much you’ve changed since you came home to me. I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

Bucky snorted, even as his cheeks warmed at the praise. “Why, because I’m not losing my shit right now?”

“Essentially? Yes.”

“That’s all you, you know.” He turned to kiss Steve. Smiled at the way their friends were resolutely ignoring their sappiness. “You make me whole.”

“We make each other whole.”

“I think I can live with that.”

No further words were needed. They just hugged each other tight and let their closeness convey how much they loved each other. Bucky really was so much better than he’d been, and while there were still things he didn’t know — about his past or otherwise — he at least knew this: Steve loved him with his whole heart. And that feeling was more than mutual.

“So!” Tony’s voice shook them out of their moment. “While I’m sure we would all love to spend the rest of the night watching this Nicholas Sparks lovefest unfold, we still have the whole rehearsal portion to get to. Of which I’m in charge.”

“No, you’re not,” Pepper interjected.

“No, I’m not. But you are. So, close enough.”

“It’s really not.”

“No?”

Her pursed lips said annoyed, but her eyes couldn’t hide her amusement as Pepper shook her head and said, “No.” She turned to Steve and Bucky and gave them a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry, guys, I’ve read his speech. After vetoing, oh I don’t know, about _seventy percent_ of it, I’d say it’s pretty solid.”

“Seventy percent?” Sam smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t do a full rewrite.”

“Or three,” Clint added.

Tony scowled. “I resent all of you.”

Pepper patted him on the cheek. “Oh, we know, honey.”

“Whatever.” Tony waved vaguely at the group. “Are we doing this?”

Bucky laughed and stood up, pulling Steve with him. “Yes, we are.”

They spent the next hour doing a few run-throughs for the next day. Steve and Bucky had opted to walk out together, though their friends were all walking out individually. They practiced with and without music, going over timing and pacing, with both Pepper and Maria interjecting notes both in regards to the ceremony and what they should expect in terms to their surroundings.

As for Tony, they didn’t actually get to hear his speech, but that was okay. They would hear it the next day, and honestly, Bucky didn’t want to be spoiled.

“You do realize, once I’m up there, I could just give my original speech, and no one can stop me?” Tony pointed out after his third attempt at trying to start.

“Not if you don’t want to spend the next decade sharing a bunk with DUM-E, you won’t,” Pepper warned, not even looking up from where she stood off to the side with Maria, tablets in both their hands.

Tony pointed his own tablet at her. “I’ll have you know that DUM-E is an excellent cuddler.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “I don’t want to know how or why you know that.”

“Well, it all came about two winters ago, when we all got snowed into the tower, and all I had was DUM-E, a bottle of Chateau Margaux and some 80’s power ballads to keep me company —”

“Oh my god, _stop.”_ Bucky waved him off, horrified, even as Steve doubled over laughing. He smacked Steve on the arm. “It wasn’t that funny. Hell, it wasn’t even _actually_ funny!”

“It was _so_ funny.”

“Your humor worries me sometimes, Steve,” Nat said from behind Bucky. She placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur in his ear. “Are you sure about this one? I’m worried he might be cracked.”

“No choice.” Bucky sighed, all put upon and resigned. “My ma would roll over in her grave if I skipped out on my own wedding.”

“She really would,” Steve said, then grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him close. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Barnes. No backing out now.”

“I regret all my life choices.”

Steve nodded, even as he hovered inches from Bucky’s lips. “You really should. Saddling yourself with the likes of me? Stupid move on your part.”

“Yeah well. I never claimed to be all that smart.”

“Lies, you big nerd.”

“Look who’s talking, pipsqueak.”

Steve huffed a laugh before closing the distance between them, both ignoring Tony’s protests that they weren’t at that part yet. They didn’t care. They were too happy.

“I think we’re good for today, don’t you guys?” Bucky asked, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face. “Steve and I are gonna leave.” All he wanted to do was get Steve downstairs and peel him out of his suit. One last night before they were officially husbands.

“Uuhhh. No, you’re not.” Bucky looked over to find Natasha eyeing him, one eyebrow perfectly arched. She glanced over at Sam before turning back to Bucky. “You _do_ know you guys aren’t going home together, right?”

“Say, what now?” Steve asked, looking just as confused as Bucky felt.

“Um, yes we are.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “You’re not. You guys aren’t supposed to see each other until the ceremony. You’re coming back with us.” He waved a hand at himself and Nat.

Bucky grabbed onto Steve’s hand. “Fuck you guys, I’m going home with my fiancé,” and maybe it was a touch more petulant than he intended, but he didn’t care. He turned to Steve, silently begging him to back him up.

Steve shrugged, nonplussed. But thankfully he was gripping Bucky’s hand just as hard. He turned back to everyone. “Guys, we didn’t discuss this.”

“Pepper, no one told us about this,” Bucky pleaded.

“Well, it _is_ tradition,” Pepper started, though she looked like she genuinely felt bad about the whole situation. She turned hard eyes on Nat and Sam. “To be honest, when your friends told me whose place each of you would be staying at, I had just _assumed_ they’d actually discussed it with you first.”

“Yeah, that never happened.”

Steve gently squeezed his hand. “Bucky...”

Bucky turned back to him. _“Steve._ We promised, remember? No more time apart.” Then he began toying with one of the buttons on Steve’s shirt. “Besides, I was planning on ripping your clothes off. How am I gonna rip your clothes off when we’re not even on the same island?”

A soft laugh escaped Steve’s lips, and he brought his free hand up to brush against Bucky’s cheek. “You know, that had been my plan, too?”

“Okay, so then —”

“I know we said no time apart, but...” He glanced over at their friends again. “I feel like it’s important to them? They’re just trying to make all of this as special for us as they can. And I don’t know...” He gave Bucky a tiny little smile. “Now that I think about it, I kind of like the idea of waiting until after we’re married.”

Bucky could _not_ possibly be hearing him right. “Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

Lips pressed against his own and Bucky grunted in frustration, especially when the bastard started laughing. “I think we can keep it in our pants for one night, baby.”

“Not a visual I needed!” Tony exclaimed.

“Suck it, Robocop,” Bucky shot back. Then he sighed, _definitely_ frustrated, and more than a little disappointed. “Okay, but we can’t even stay together our last night?”

“Baby, I think you’re missing the big picture.”

“So enlighten me.”

“This isn’t our _last night.”_ Steve kissed again. “This is the beginning of the rest of our lives.”

Bucky frowned. “It’s still one less night with you.”

Steve opened his mouth, only to close it and sigh. He gave Bucky’s hand a tug and pulled him in, wrapping his other arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He felt a soft kiss against the side of his head. “If you really don’t want to be separated tonight, then they can fuck off. It’s up to you.”

Bucky held Steve tighter and tried not to cringe. He knew he was being ridiculous, he did. He was one fucking night. It shouldn’t have been getting to him so much. It was just, he’d felt so out of _balance_ since Steve had left and he’d had to plan so much of this on his own. It had thrown him off, and honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time being away from Steve had bothered him so much.

 _Fuck,_ he was being stupid.

He gave his head a shake, and let the discomfort shiver down his spine before letting it go. Then he kissed Steve on the cheek. “Okay.”

Steve pulled back enough to search Bucky’s face. “Okay.”

“Yeah, let’s go back with Nat and Sam.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I need to stop being a lunatic.” He nodded over towards their Best Men. “You’re right; they worked hard on planning this. And it’s one night. We can do one night.”

“We can do one night,” Steve echoed back, then gave Bucky a soft smile. “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you like crazy, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky said and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. “So, see you tomorrow then?”

The smile Steve gave Bucky bordered on ludicrous. “I’ll be the one in the dashing suit.”

“Hey, what do you know.” Bucky smacked him lightly in the chest. “So will I.”

Suit, uniform, close enough. Steve could just be surprised.

~~~~

Bucky stretched out diagonally across Nat’s bed. “You sure about this?”

“The spare bedroom is fine.” She shrugged from where she was sitting cross-legged at the foot of it. “I look good no matter where I sleep. You’re the one who needs your beauty rest.”

Bucky pulled the pillow out from under his head and threw it at her. She knocked it off to the side with a laugh.

“Such a bitch...”

“You say this like it surprises you.”

They just smiled at each other. Then Bucky leaned over to retrieve the offending pillow from off the floor and tucked it back under his head. “Also, you know, it’s not like your guest bed is some frat-boy futon. That thing is fucking _nice.”_

“It’s also a queen, whereas this is a cal king.” She swept a hand out. “Seriously, tomorrow’s your big day. Take the big bed. I insist.”

Bucky rolled over (an admittedly far distance) so he could pillow his head on Nat’s lap. “Yeah, all right. I know better than to deny an offering from you. I say no now, and you’ll make me sleep on a fucking twin-size air mattress the next time I have to crash here.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She smiled down at him before carding her fingers through his hair. “Are you nervous about tomorrow, _catulus?”_

Nervous, scared, petrified... Yes to all, but not for the reasons anyone thought.

“I don’t know if nervous is the right world. I’m not _nervous_ to marry Steve. I mean, the guy is, without question, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Meeting him that day on the playground? It really was fucking fate, and I have never looked back. As long as we’ve had each other, I knew everything would work out. But the thing is...” He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “The thing is, this marriage business, it just makes everything that much _bigger._ Our work is _so_ dangerous, and while we love what we do, and neither of us wants to give it up, if something happens to him, I’m no longer losing my boyfriend, I’m losing my husband. And that just... It makes it scarier. More real or something, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “But am I nervous about marrying Steve? No. The guy’s my fucking soulmate, if you believe in that sort of thing —”

“I do,” Nat interjected, and gave him an uncharacteristically sheepish smile. “I didn’t, not for most of my life. Not after what I went through in the Red Room. But seeing you guys? I absolutely believe it now.”

“Do you think Clint’s yours?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess only time will tell. But, as it is, he’s the only one who’s ever got me. Only one who’s ever _truly_ been patient with me.” Her laugh was grim. “Not sure what I did to deserve someone like him, but there you go.”

“You didn’t give up on yourself,” Bucky answered, and he smiled at her, reassuring. “That’s what my therapist keeps telling me every time I say something like that. She says: ‘You never gave up on yourself, Bucky, and for that you’ve found someone who will never give up on you.’ I don’t know. Sounds kind of silly, I know, but I like to think it’s true.”

“And now you're getting your happily ever after.”

“I know!” It felt so surreal. “It's weird, right? It's weird that I'm getting married. _Me._ The world’s most vicious assassin is marrying the greatest man history has ever known. It's like we're Romeo and Juliet, except for how people seem to be cool with it.”

“Not me. I think you're both losers.” She snorted and Bucky poked her in the side, pleased at the barely-there twitch it garnered.

Bucky Barnes: Master assassin and the only human in existence who knew Nat’s one ticklish spot.

She smacked him lightly on the head. “Brat.”

“Me!” He gaped at her. “You just called me a loser! You had it coming, Natalia, don't _even_ pretend you didn't.”

“Air mattress.”

“I love you, you beautiful fairy creature.”

“Uh huh.”

She leaned down to kiss his forehead and he hummed in contentment. He loved her so goddamn much. He would forever be grateful their friendship had survived their past.

“You could stay with me. Tonight? You could sleep in here with me, keep me company.” She arched an eyebrow at him and he scoffed, smacking her thigh. “Get bent, Natalia, I'm not looking to _fuck_ you.”

She smirked at him. “You sure about that?”

“Oh my god.”

“One last roll with a girl? I don't think Steve would fault you for that.”

“Why are we even friends.” Bucky sat up and shoved her giggling ass over.

“I'm pretty spectacular in bed, if I do say so myself!” Nat called after him as he got up and stalked off to the bathroom.

“Bite my ass, Natasha!”

“But you _just said_ —”

The slamming of the bathroom door cut her off. Bucky needed to get better friends.

~~~~

Bucky perked up in confusion as Nat turned off Bowery and started heading across the Manhattan Bridge. He side-eyed her. “Uh, Nat? You forget where your apartment is?”

She waved him off. “You need coffee. And we need to go over the plan today.”

“I thought we were on a need to know basis that included not needing to know anything.”

“Yeah, that was a lie.”

“You lied to me.” Bucky was the furthest thing from surprised.

“Wasn’t the first; won’t be the last. You didn’t need to know _last night._ You need to know now.”

“How very calculating of you all.”

“Why, thank you.”

Bucky chuckled lightly, and looked out the tiny back window before sitting up straight, jamming a thumb over his shoulder. “Also, you _do_ know there’s coffee in Manhattan, right? I know. I’ve seen it.”

Her eyes twinkled and she licked her lips as she tried to suppress a smile. “True. But this is your wedding day. And if you’re going to have Brooklyn Roasting, it just makes sense to have it _in_ Brooklyn, don’t you think?”

Oh god, he could _kiss_ her.

Which he did — leaning in his seat to plant one on her cheek. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Not today, you haven’t, but the day is still young. You’ve got time.”

Bucky laughed and sat back in his seat. When they hit DUMBO, they actually parked in Steve and Bucky’s complex since it was the closest, and parking was free. Brooklyn Roasting was somewhat busy, but that was pretty typical for a Saturday. When your options in the area were limited to Starbucks and _here,_ people knew where to go.

He went to get in line, only for Nat to place a hand on his arm and nod towards the tiny table in the back, next to the side entrance of the little bookstore adjacent to the coffee shop. “You go secure that table; I’ll get our drinks.”

“Do you even know what I want.”

When she gave him a withering glare, he just held up his palms and went to sit down. Even as packed as it was, it didn’t surprise Bucky no one was sitting at this table. It was weirdly uncomfortable and _completely_ on a slant. Not great for anyone needing to get work done _or_ for people who wanted to sit around for a while and catch up. It was Bucky’s favorite spot when he needed to be left alone.

A couple minutes later, Nat set down a large coffee in front of him before dropping down into the other seat, cold brew in hand. She toyed with her straw has she eyed him. “You ready for today?”

Bucky took a sip of his coffee then shrugged. “I’m okay. I mean, it’s not like I was ever _not_ okay, but it’s just, you know, probably the most important day of my life.”

Nat smiled. “Can’t argue with that. For so many reasons.”

 _“So_ many reasons.”

They both smiled at each other, knowing. Then they sat back and drank their coffee, allowing the short moment of reprieve before they got down to business. Eventually Nat cleared her throat and sat up.

“So.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to where only he could hear her. “We need to go over the plan for today.”

“Spill it. How is this all going down?”

“Well, first things first, you _won’t_ be getting dressed for the wedding when we get back to my place...”

Bucky listened intently as she laid out the plan for getting him to the wedding. And as ludicrous as it all sounded, he honestly didn’t think he or Steve would have come up with anything better. His friends really were fucking brilliant.

~~~~

After going back to Nat’s place, Bucky had done what she’d told him to do, then hopped in a cab, since she was going in separate. He fidgeted from the backseat as it wound its way through Brooklyn to Prospect Park, and ran through, for the millionth time, what was going down that day.  

The plan was simple — or as simple as it could get when half of SHIELD was involved. Though, when he glanced down at his clothes — a t-shirt, shorts, and his running shoes — he tried not to think of just how ridiculous it all actually felt. But, to be fair, ridiculous is what seemed to get SHIELD through practically every mission. Maybe ridiculous is what they needed.

The cab was dropping him off near the same entrance to Prospect where he and Steve had gone the day Steve had proposed. Clear on the other side from the venue, but easy for Bucky to run there. Apparently Steve was coming in from a different location. By now, they were such a familiar sight, running through the park, that any press who were waiting out the Botanical Garden ‘wedding’ wouldn't think much of seeing them either of them there.

As for diverting any crowds away from the boathouse, well, apparently that would involve a mess of plainclothes agents, quite a few look outs, and a small army of Inhumans, Pietro and Wanda included. When he tried to get more details, Nat just waved a hand and said it was better if he didn't know. Though she did promise that no person or persons would come to harm in the making of Steve and Bucky’s wedding.

There were trailers already set up for them to get cleaned up and get dressed when they got there. Everything has been accounted for.

The cab dropped him off, and Bucky was out the door before it had fully stopped. He had an indirect route to take that included several loops and a couple of back-tracks. Still, it wouldn't be more than a three-mile run, and he wanted it over as quickly as possible.

He was just making his first back-track up through the small tunnel at the top of the park when someone reached out and snatched at his arm. Metal was already around the person’s throat, slamming them up against the brick wall, only to scowl when he finally noticed Steve smiling stupidly back at him.

He immediately dropped his hand. “Really, Steven?”

“Hi, baby,” was all Steve said in return. He bounced a little where he stood, the smile never slipped from his face, and Bucky couldn't help but chuckle in return. Steve’s excitement was infectious.

He stepped closer, crowding Steve up against the wall. “Hiya, Stevie. Whatcha doin’ here?”

“Oh, nothin’.” Steve shook his head, casual as anything. “Felt like going for a run. You?”

“Funny enough, that's what _I'm_ doing. Feel like runnin’ with me?”

“Oh, I don't know, Buck.” Steve's eyes went wide, all faux nervousness. He leaned out to peek down the tunnel before turning back to Bucky, teeth biting into his lower lip. “Mom and Dad said we're not allowed to hang out together. You're not worried we’ll get caught?”

Bucky snorted. “About as much as you are.”

“Good point.” Steve smiled and took Bucky’s hand, guiding them towards a more secluded path.

They didn’t take off for their run, but Bucky had a feeling that wasn’t on Steve’s agenda. Just as he suspected, Steve lead them on a slow walk up through autumn leaves that crunched under foot, canopies of yellows, oranges, and reds above them. The main road around Prospect was a great run, but there was nothing like the side paths through the park. The cracked pavements that bled to cobblestone that bled to earth. They saw almost no one, and of those they did see, they neither knew nor cared if they were agent or civilian. All that mattered was them.

“So. Stevie.” Bucky smiled softly and tucked into Steve’s side, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder. “How’d you find me?”

Steve chuckled softly and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “The difference between Natasha and Sam is that Nat is a spy, where Sam is...not. Breaking into his phone and finding _your_ plan for today was almost embarrassingly easy.”

“Okay, but when did you do this? Was this just last night, or have you known —”

“Oh. No. I did this last night.” Steve pressed a kiss into Bucky’s hair again. “I would never have kept it from you. I just figured twelve hours was enough time apart and, you know, maybe I could surprise you.”

“Something that will never happen twice.”

“Wait, are you referring to today? Or the proposal I planned for six months? Or did you mean every birthday you’ve ever had with me? Or what about the time I painted the art piece on our bedroom wall? Or the pumpkin I made you? Or, maybe you mean —”

Bucky twisted his fingers into Steve’s side, and Steve gasped, only to give way to huffs of laughter as he danced out of Bucky’s reach. Bucky just shook his head and smiled fondly at him.

“You just gotta be an ass, don’t you. And on the day of our —” Bucky cut off at Steve’s suddenly twitching hand — a minute gesture to be quiet, their own silent language. And besides, the way Steve was looking over Bucky’s shoulder, he knew enough.

And if the way Steve suddenly plastered on his best Captain America smile wasn’t a dead giveaway, well...

Bucky turned around to find Craig Bradley walking toward them — a Page Six reporter Bucky’d seen at a few press conferences. Bucky had never gone out of his way to be nice to the guy, so all he did was arch an eyebrow as the man slinked closer.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain Rogers himself!” Bradley boasted, smiling at Steve. His eyes slid over to Bucky and he gave a short nod. “Sergeant Barnes. Interesting seeing you two here.”

It was only then that Bucky noticed they were walking down the path that lined the Botanical Gardens. He twitched internally.

“Interesting?” Steve asked, and looked over to Bucky, his brows drawn in confusion. “Interesting how?”

Bradley inclined his head in the direction of the Gardens. “Didn’t you hear? There’s an ultra-high-profile wedding going on here today. No one seems to know _who,_ though. You wouldn’t have any ideas about that, would you?”

Steve snorted. “Bradley, how many times have you asked us about current events, and we can’t answer outside of political matters. Unless the President’s son is getting married — which, honestly, would shock the hell out of me — I doubt I have any clue what you’re talking about.”

Bucky saw the slight tap Bradley made on his phone, and knew they were being recorded. Without even thinking about it, Bucky took a step towards Steve.

Bradley just continued to study them, pretending as though nothing had changed. “And if it _was_ the President’s son, would you tell me?”

“No,” Steve answered, absolute. “Because one, I’m aware you have a job to do, but that still doesn’t make it your business. And two, chances are we’d be getting ready right now, and nowhere near here to answer any of your questions.”

Bradley must have realized Steve wasn’t giving it up, because he actually turned towards Bucky. “You guys really have _no clue_ who’s getting married.”

Bucky was halfway into a shrug when he had an idea. “No clue,” he parroted back, his voice sharp. “But, I guess, best of luck to them?” He narrowed his eyes as he turned towards Steve, making sure Bradley saw him. “Must be _nice,_ getting married. To be with the one you love? Forever? Must be _real_ fuckin’ nice.”

He stared hard at Steve, and bless him, it only took him half a heartbeat to catch on.

Steve immediately breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring. “It _is_ nice, I think. When the time is right.” He snapped his gaze away from Bucky to Bradley. “It’s really sad though when one party _isn’t_ ready, and the other party can’t seem to _let that go._ ”

“Well, you’d _think_ after, oh I don’t know, a fuckin’ _century,_ one would assume both parties should be on the same page. You’d _think_ that, wouldn’t you.” He also turned an icy glare Bradley’s way. “It would _astound_ you how much that’s not always the case.”

“Buck.” Steve’s voice was low, angry. And Bucky had to bite down on a laugh at the way this ass-clown of a reporter looked like a shark in blood-infested waters.

Bucky just deliberately clenched his fists at his sides and turned back towards Steve. “You know what, Rogers? Just... _whatever.”_ With that, he took off running, past them both, Steve ‘seething’ in his wake, and Bradley looking like Christmas had come early.

He took the bend that led down the hill and towards the small children’s play area and open field. Once there, he diverted slightly off the path and waited Steve out. It was barely a minute later that Steve came around the corner himself, stride all out of whack from where he was laughing so hard.

“That was” — he leaned in to kiss Bucky, quick — “fucking hilarious.” He draped his arms over Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky immediately brought his hands to Steve’s waist. He blushed at the way Steve was staring at him, like he lit the fucking sun. “I can’t believe you; did you see him? No question, our first day as a married couple is going to be fielding questions about ‘trouble in paradise.’”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, well, at least that’ll keep some of them off our scent. Hopefully all.”

Steve nodded and hummed. “Hopefully all.”

He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips, softer this time, sweet and chaste and perfect. Bucky’s hands twitched at Steve’s sides, and they held each other close. This was probably one of their last kisses before they were married, and it was everything Bucky wanted it to be. He wanted to savor it.

When the kiss broke, Bucky whined a little and tried to cling on, but Steve just stepped back and snickered. He ran a hand over Bucky’s head, leaned in to kiss his forehead, and whispered, “Soon,” into his skin.

They smiled at each other, and Bucky took Steve’s hand, heading out towards the venue. They weren’t quite meandering this time, but they still weren’t exactly booking it either. Nothing was going to start without them.

As they walked out from under the last bridge into the clearing, he could just make out the boathouse down on the other side of the small lake. A thrum went through him and his heart rate spiked, but it wasn’t him that pulled up short. A hand clenched in his own, and suddenly they weren’t moving forward anymore. When he looked over, Steve was standing there, stock-still, his eyes wide, and Bucky could actually see his pulse jumping in his throat.

Okay, thank _god_ , he wasn’t the only one.

He gave Steve’s hand a squeeze and waited till he looked over, then tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“You too, huh?”

“What if —” Steve stopped and shook his head before starting again. “What...what if we get there, and something goes wrong? What if there’s an emergency — we get called in or something? What if there’s an _ambush?_ I mean, there are a lot of people who would love to see us dead, and especially on our wedding —”

“Steve,” Bucky cut in, using Steve’s own authoritative tone on him. “There are a million things that could go wrong in the next several hours.” Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Bucky waved a hand at him. “But you know what? I also would bet that there are a _million-and-one_ ways our friends will make sure nothing gets in our way today. We’ve earned this.”

“Okay, but what if —”

Bucky gripped his hand that much harder and locked eyes with him. “We’ve _earned_ this, Stevie. It’s our time.”

A pause. “You’re sure?”

“As much as I can be, yeah.”

_“THERE YOU TWO ARE!”_

Bucky and Steve both jumped, only to bump into each other as they both tried to put themselves between the other and the perceived danger. Bucky won out, only to very much wish he hadn’t at the sight of a _truly irate_ Patricia Boone.

He immediately flipped them around, putting Steve between him and the hurricane brewing in her eyes.

“It’s his fault!” he blurted out from his new hiding place. “Blame him.”

“Oh my god, Buck, you are _such_ a coward,” Steve muttered feverishly, even as Patty descended on them. They both took a futile step away from her, but no such luck as she grabbed them both by the ear and started dragging them towards the boathouse.

“I cannot _believe_ you two, disappearing on your friends like that,” she lectured as she went, though Bucky missed most of it, because holy _fuck,_ he’d forgotten how much getting pulled by the ear hurt like hell. He could hear Steve muttering _ow, ow, ow,_ under his breath, but either she couldn’t hear him or flat out didn’t care. Bucky put even money on the latter.

“You are _lucky_ we didn’t just put this all up in smoke, and send a search party after you. Your sweet friend Natasha was ready to send out the National Guard, but your other friend, Samuel, had said to leave you both be, and that you would turn up. I suspect your friend Samuel is an idiot.”

“Well, we don't call him Mr. Feelings for noth— _ow,”_ Steve whined as Patty tugged harder on his ear. Then she tossed them both in front of her, and God save them if they both weren't immediately at parade rest.

She glared at each in turn. “Now, the Lord only knows why I love you boys.” She flicked a hand between them and grumbled, “You’re both trouble and should be condemned to a life in Siberia, the way you can’t ever seem to be on time for the people who do nice things for you.” She pointed a finger at them, and Bucky wasn't entirely certain she wasn't possessed by Colonel Phillips. “Now, you _will_ go get ready, and you absolutely _will_ apologize to your friends!”

“Yes, ma’am!” The way Steve damn-near saluted her, something struck Bucky.

“Ma’am!” He waited till she was fully paying attention to him, then he asked, “Ma’am, were you military?”

She immediately puffed up, a glint of pride in her eyes. “First Lieutenant, Nurse Patricia Martinez Boone, Ninth Infantry Regiment, Korea.”

Steve huffed out a quiet, “Oh,” and Bucky didn't miss the way he straightened a fraction more. You didn't fuck with the nurses.

“I had a feeling, ma’am,” Bucky said, and gave her a tiny lopsided smile.

“Yeah, well.” She folded her arms, but a touch of her earlier heat seemed to have faded. “Now maybe you'll do as I tell you.”

“We would have done that anyway, ma’am.”

“Then get to it,” she snapped, and they immediately scooted past her. Then she shouted after them, “And stop calling me ma’am!”

There were several trailers behind the boathouse, and it didn't take long for them to find two labeled ROGERS and BARNES. They turned to smile nervously at each other.

“See you on the flipside?” Bucky asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Steve pulled him in and pressed their foreheads together one last time. “Catch you at the top of the aisle, baby.”

One last smile and Bucky ran up the steps and inside, only to find Natasha, absolutely annoyed — and absolutely _stunning_ in her floor length, gun-metal gray dress, her hair twisted up on her head — standing on the other side. Hunter was sitting in a chair behind her, quietly snickering into his phone.

Before either could say anything, Bucky pointed a finger at Hunter. “You. Shut it.” Then he turned to Nat. “And before _you_ say anything, Patty just read me and Steve the Riot Act, so please just, don't.”

She glared at him for a few moments, arms folded, before finally pointing at a door to her left. “Shower. Now.”

“On it.” He quickly stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek before she could stop him. He smiled at her and added, “You look incredible, by the way.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Barnes,” she said, but he didn’t miss the light that shone in her eyes.

~~~~

Swallowing had taken on a whole new level of difficulty. As Bucky stood in front of the mirror in his trailer, his uniform crisp to perfection, his hair styled just right, all he could see was a man on the verge of throwing up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, working to calm down, because this was it. This was the one thing he never even _thought_ to want in the whole of his very long life. He was marrying to Steve.

Hunter came up next to him, his smile lighting up his eyes as he bumped Bucky lightly in the shoulder. “All right there, mate? You ready for this? Because, you know, your face seems to be matching the color of your uniform, and I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.”

“I’m pretty sure the last time I felt this sick was during my deprogramming,” was all he could say in reply. He was shocked his voice worked at all.

Hunter just threw an arm around him and gave him a hard shake, his jovial smile never slipping. “Well, if you _are_ going to puke, aim for the water. Not looking to clean up after your sorry arse.”

“Such a good friend, you are.”

“The best.”

Bucky opened his mouth to disabuse Hunter of that notion when Nat saddled up behind them.

“You ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad. It’s time.”

He glared at Hunter and Nat in turn. “Remind me why I picked you two for this again?”

“Because Clint and Thor would be trying to get you drunk right about now?” Hunter offered.

“I’m failing to see how that’s a bad thing.”

“All right, you two idiots.” Nat gave them both a tug for the door. “Seriously, it’s time.”

Bucky turned toward her, genuine panic seeping under his skin. “Natalia...”

She took his face in hand and leaned in to give him a soft air-kiss to the cheek before whispering in his ear, “You got this.”

He kept his hands at his sides, too afraid he might hurt her if he grabbed on the way he so desperately wanted to. Steve was waiting for him, and they were going to get married, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so scared about anything.

“You _got_ this.”

All he could do was nod and let her lead him outside. Steve was waiting —

“Where’s Steve?” he asked as he looked around, his fiancé nowhere in sight.

Hunter gave a small laugh. “You forget everything from last night? He’s coming in from the other side of the boathouse.”

Oh yeah. That was how this was supposed to work. He and Steve were meeting at the back of the boathouse after their friends had walked in, where they were supposed to join hands and walk down together. They’d _practiced_ that.

Bucky took his place along the far edge of the boathouse. He laid his metal hand flat against the wall to keep from ripping chunks out, and took several steadying breaths. When Pepper came around the corner, he mustered up the best smile he could, and waved a hand at the way her eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ve got this,” he said. Because _Nat_ said. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “Just a little freaked out, but I’m good.”

“Something else you and Steve seem to have in common right now.”

Bucky’s head shot up. “He is?” he asked, more than a little relieved that Steve was also on edge. Then the rest of her words caught up with him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘something else’?”

She just smirked at him, even as she straightened his uniform. “You’ll see.” She gave his lapels a slight tug. “Time to go, Bucky Bear.”

“You’ve never called me that,” he murmured, heat traveling up his neck.

She shrugged. “Seemed fitting.”

He smiled and took her hand. “I don’t know if I’ve said this enough, or at all, but thank you. Everything you’ve done? I can count on one hand how many people in my life have ever done _anything_ like this for me.”

“Oh, honey, you boys deserve it, you know that? And I hope you know I would do anything for you.”

“Thanks, Pepper. I know.” And he _did_ know that now. He was so grateful to have someone like her in his life. “Same goes for you too,” he added, and he was rewarded with a slight tinge of pink across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the makeup she had on.

She smiled and nodded at him, and turned to go. Right after she rounded the corner, Sam and Clint peeked their heads around at him.

“You ready for —” Sam stopped, stared at him, then burst out laughing right along with Clint.

“What?” Bucky muttered. He glanced down at his uniform, looking for _something_ out of place, but there was nothing. No stains, his medals all accounted for, hell his fly wasn’t even down. He looked back up at them. “What am I missing?”

Sam shook his head, still laughing. “Nothing, man. You look great.”

Clint nodded from right next to him. “Steve is going to _love_ the outfit change.”

Bucky blanched. “Fuck, should I not have worn this?” he asked, the panic suddenly back in full force. He wasn’t sure if he had time to change. Hell, he wasn’t sure if the suit was even _here._ He looked around wildly as he tried to figure out how he was going to get it, get into it, and be back in this spot in the next five minutes. Maybe if he had Sam and Clint stall —

Sam and Clint, who weren’t laughing anymore, and were now standing right in front of him. Sam clamped him hard on the shoulder, and gave him a small shake. “Buck, buddy, look at me.” Bucky locked eyes with him. Sam smiled. “You look good. Really. That wasn’t a joke; Steve really is going to love the uniform.”

“You think?”

It was Clint that nodded. “Yeah, man.” He jerked his head back towards the entrance. “You go meet your boy and let him see you like that. It’ll be perfect.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky nodded. _Fuck,_ he needed to calm down. He needed _Steve._ “Let’s get this fucking thing started.” As if on cue, the first strains of an acoustic guitar picked up. It was equal parts calming and terrifying.

Sam gave him a short nod and Clint clapped him on the back, and they were off to take their places in the short lineup. Pepper stepped just into view, ready to give him the signal. He watched as she eyed the front door, each of their friends heading in and down the aisle. Finally, she turned toward him with a smile and stepped back, giving him space to walk around the corner and join hands with the other half of his soul.

And there it was. The calm. This was it, and it was what he wanted, and suddenly, there was nothing that wasn’t him or Steve. He closed his eyes and breathed in, secure in that knowledge. Then he smiled and walked around the corner —

Only to pull up short at the sight of Steve, and the look of surprise he knew was a mirror of his own. Suddenly everyone’s earlier reactions all made sense, and Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Nice outfit,” he commented and nodded towards Steve, who was in his _own_ dress greens.

Steve laughed, and his face flushed a crimson red. He ducked his head and smiled at Bucky through hooded eyes. “I wanted to surprise you.”

And in that moment, Bucky’s heart stopped. Steve had always looked good in his uniform, but right now, with his lines crisp and clean, his medals in place, his shoes shined, and his hair perfectly styled, Bucky couldn’t get away from the thought that it was all for him. As much as Steve had looked unreal in that gray number that had been made for him, seeing him dressed up in the one suit he’d always felt _proudest_ to be wearing — the one _uniform_ that had been hard won, and that both of them had shed blood for — it took Bucky’s breath away.

He looked _beautiful._ And he’d done it _for_ Bucky.

“I’m surprised,” he managed to get out.

Steve waved a hand at him. “That makes two of us.”

“Tony is going to kill us.”

“Not seeing how I care, at the moment. Do you have any idea how _stunning_ you look?”

“What, this old thing?” Bucky gave him a half smile. “Just something I had lying around.”

“Ass.”

“No, that part actually _does_ look good.” Bucky burst out laughing, and Steve just stood there, shaking his head. This was what Bucky needed. Steve always made it so _easy_ for him to feel at ease.

They linked hands and, sure enough, there was that calm again. Steve felt warm and solid at his side, his grip firm and a perfect fit in Bucky’s own. This was just...right. This was where Bucky belonged for the rest of his life.

They had been through so much in their lives. They knew the fire and ice that could only come from walking through Hell to find peace on the other side. And right now, Steve was looking at Bucky like he, too, knew that peace. Like he, too, had found that crystalline lake of serenity. All noise gone, just the quiet around them and the beating of their own hearts. Nothing else. Right now belonged to no one but _them._ And Bucky could cry with how deeply, incandescently happy he was.

The music shifted, and so did Steve’s grip in his hand. The doors — which had been shut in preparation for their grand entrance — blew open to a sea of silvers, blacks, and whites. Ornate chandeliers dropped down over silver chairs tied with shimmering black cords, each one filled with all the people they loved, and breached down the middle by a carpet of intricate black and white, the aisle that led up to their forever.

But Bucky didn’t see any of it. The only thing he could see — the only thing he ever _wanted_ to see — was Steve’s face smiling back at him as they walked down that aisle. A blur behind unshed tears, but there all the same.

They stopped at the altar, and the music faded out, and it took everything Bucky had not to lean in and feel those lips against his own. Lips he’d kissed thousands upon thousands of times, and yet he was certain would feel brand new in the here and now.

It was only the clearing of someone’s throat that finally got them to tear their eyes away from each other. They turned to find Tony, eyebrow arched, as his eyes ticked back and forth between the two.

“We’ll make it up to you,” Steve offered.

“Of course you will.”

“You at least look nice,” Bucky added as a small peace offering. “Is that Armani?”

“Tom Ford,” Tony corrected. Then he waved a hand at them. “Forget it. If you can’t tell Ford from Armani, you don’t _deserve_ bespoke. Stick to your run-of-the-mill dress uniforms. Why I waste my time on you two, I’ll never know.”

“We’re lost causes,” Steve said solemnly.

“It’s what I keep telling Pepper.” Then he straightened up, smiled. “Now let’s get you married, since you _clearly_ at least deserve each other.”

Steve’s grip tightened in his hand, and Bucky looked over, returning the smile he saw there. “Yeah, Tony. Let’s get us married.”

Tony cleared his throat and began.

“Friends! Asgardians!” He smiled at everyone sitting behind them — their family. “I could give the standard ‘dearly beloved, we’re gathered here, blah blah blah’ speech, but it’s boring. It’s ordinary. It’s every suburban, picket fence, beige cliché that has ever been used to describe average.

“But I would be doing a disservice. Because the two men standing before me are the very opposite of average. Of ordinary. Even before science and history turned them into the legends they are today, together they were already a story for the ages. For those that heard it, my joke last night about calling these two a Nicholas Sparks lovefest wasn’t entirely off the mark, though I think back then they were more Greek Tragedy than happy love story —”

“You call Nicholas Sparks a happy love story?” Nat interjected incredulously.

“Well, if you compare his stories to _our_ lives, they’re one trip-into-a-pool, grand-speech away from being romantic comedies.”

Nat shrugged. “Fair enough.”

 _“As_ I was saying, these two — their story — truly is one for the books. Which it is. Ones we've all read. Because some of us had a father who considered every Captain America biography ever written a good birthday present for an eight-year-old.

“But aside from that! These men, as individuals — with Cap’s unwavering commitment and never-ending refusal to back down, and Barnes’ single-minded focus to get the job done — some would say _any_ job done — are both unique and special in their own right.

“I mean, let’s face it, if Cap hadn’t spent the seventies playing the part of Super Soldier on Ice, he probably would have _been_ Rudy Ruettiger, and I’m still not entirely convinced that Barnes _isn’t_ the AU origin story of the Terminator.”

He smiled wolfishly at them both, and Bucky had to work to keep his sigh internal. It still didn’t stop him from shaking his head, or the tiny snicker he let loose, when he saw Steve quietly slip Tony the finger.

“But that was then, and this is now. And luckily for both of them, _now_ has given them a chance to find a Happily Ever After that never would have been afforded to them a hundred years ago, even if their lives hadn’t ended up in the hands of the government. Now, they get to stand up here, in front of a roomful of people who actually care about their well-being, and profess their undying love for each other, which, I’m certain a few of us have wondered if that even _is_ a metaphor. I mean, have we figured out yet if the two of you even _can_ die?”

Steve shook his head, a bemused look on his face. “No, we haven’t.”

“So, we really _could_ be putting that whole ‘undying love’ thing to the ultimate test right now.”

“We could be.”

“And you're sure you don’t want to back out?”

“Tony,” Bucky warned.

Tony threw up his hands. “Just checking! But if you two really are sure you want to be together for the next millennia, I guess we’ll proceed.” He then clapped his hands together and looked around. “Now! Who out there gives these two to...these two?”

Bucky glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “Uh, I think we're a little bit past the whole giving away thing, Stark.”

“Hush, Barnes,” Tony said with a dismissive wave. “This is my show.”

Steve blinked. “Well, actually —”

“Their friends do,” Sam said.

“Their family does,” Natalia added.

Heat traveled up Bucky’s neck in direct tandem with the flush he watched spread across Steve’s cheeks. Bucky ducked his head, beyond touched, only to fight back the tiny prick at the corners of his eyes when Nat leaned up and kissed his temple as Hunter gripped his shoulder. And if the quiet sniffle he heard was anything to go by, he knew Steve was getting the same sort of love from his end.

Bucky leaned into Steve's side even as he blindly reached out until his hand registered the press of a smaller hand within it. It was followed quickly by a larger one, and he gripped as tight as he dared to the two people in the world who truly understood him, outside of Steve.

How did they ever luck into people like this?

“This whole show is making me have an emotion, you know,” Tony muttered, around a half smile.

“Just the one?” Bucky asked with a huff of laughter.

“I will be blaming you two for this for the next ten years, at least.”

“Only ten years? That’s so generous of you.”

“It’s Pepper. She’s made me soft.”

“Clearly.”

“Don’t you have a wedding to officiate?” Steve cut in. Hunter and Nat let go as Bucky straightened up.

“I do. Which I would be _doing_ if you two would stop with the mushy outpouring of affection.”

“Uh, isn’t that the _point_ of a wedding?”

“Sure it is. Between you two. Not these characters.” He waved hand at their friends. “Who invited them anyway?”

“Hey, Tony,” Sam spoke up. “Did you know, as a member of a royal family, Thor can officiate a wedding?”

“It’s true!” Thor called out from the behind them as Tony’s gasped in horror.

“You wouldn’t _dare._ ”

“Then get on with it.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Wilson,” Tony shot back, then he turned back Steve and Bucky. “Where was I? Oh, that’s right. Rudy and T-800. As I was saying, it’s not every day you meet one person — let alone two — that you could call extraordinary. And these two certainly fit that bill.

“And today, we get to witness an honest-to-god miracle as they come together as husband and husband. And if I’m being _perfectly_ honest, I am more than a little honored to be standing here to help see this come to fruition. Also, despite everything” — Tony ticked an eye towards Bucky — “I wish Dad was here to see this. He was such a champion for you, Cap, and I really think he probably knew about you two, the way he talked about you _both._ Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s pouring himself one for the both you right now. So let’s get this show on the road.

“Cap and Barnes have chosen to write their own vows, so if you both would turn towards each other, I think we’d all love to hear what you both have to say. Cap, you first.”

Bucky’s heart tripped in his chest as he turned towards Steve. He took Steve’s other hand and gripped tight, praying that he didn’t break it in the process. Especially when he found Steve’s face already tear-streaked. Something inside of Bucky fractured at the sight and he barked out a strained laugh as his own tears finally broke free.

He wanted to kiss Steve so badly. And he could see the feeling was _clearly_ mutual, but he knew, if he leaned in for that kiss, that would be it. It would be a battle lost after that.

Luckily, he was saved from having to think any more about it when Steve pulled him close, ducked their heads together.

“Bucky. God, _Bucky.”_ Steve leaned in to press his lips to Bucky’s forehead. Not a kiss, so much as it was just breathing Bucky in. Steve was the only air Bucky would ever need.

“I had this whole speech ready for you — worked on it the whole time I was gone — but I’m... I’m just _blanking_ on it right now. Gimme a minute.” He closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. Bucky gave his hands a squeeze, made sure Steve knew he was there for him. Then Steve opened his eyes and smiled. “Okay. Here goes:

“Bucky. When I came out of the ice, as you know, I was diagnosed as depressed. I didn’t understand what that meant at the time, but the docs said it was clinical depression. I mean, I did get what they were saying, even if my brain wouldn’t let me dwell on it: my whole world had been taken from me, and I literally had nothing here. And no one to turn to. And the thing was, even as I built a life, it never really got better. I made friends and served, saw Peggy when I could, and moved forward. But I still didn’t know how to fit in. I had no one to talk to who _understood._

“And I always thought it was because everything I had ever held dear was gone. But that day on the bridge, I knew — knew the moment your mask fell away — that the only thing my life was missing was you. Because even as I reeled from seeing you — and then worse, moments later, learning you didn’t know me — some part knew what had been missing. Because, crazy enough, even _before_ the helicarrier, I felt whole. I felt _complete.”_

Steve’s cheeks were painted wet, and his grip on Bucky tightened as the words seemed to become more difficult. “I — Baby, I look at you and I look at me, and I see everything that was missing in my life. And maybe that’s because you’re my soulmate, or maybe that’s just because, I don’t know a life _without_ you. I don’t know how to exist without you by my side. And it didn’t matter that you didn’t remember me. You were my missing piece. And that was all I needed. I knew I could reach you simply because...I, uh, I don’t know how to phrase this.” He stopped, his eyes flicking all over the place as he searched for the words. Then he huffed out a breath and cocked his head. “I guess because you were there? Knowing you were there, and not dead, was enough. I could figure out the rest.”

Steve dropped Bucky’s hands only to cradle his face, his eyes intent and sure. “There is nothing — _nothing_ — in my life that matters other than you. You are what I fight for, what I live for, what I _breathe_ for. You are the thing I will forever orbit around. You are my center, my gravity, my tether to every good thing that _has_ ever and _will_ ever happen in my life. You are _it._

“So. With that, I don’t need to pledge ‘in sickness and in health’ because we’ve already been there. I don’t need to pledge ‘for richer or for poorer’ because we’ve been there too. I don’t need to pledge ‘for better or for worse’ because I’m pretty sure no two people in history have ever seen those extremes the way we have. And we’ve done it. Together.

“No, this is my pledge to you.” He pressed their foreheads back together and his voice was only barely above a murmur, cracking at every turn. “I promise to find you. Whether it’s in the next room or in the next life, I will _always_ find you.”

Bucky was openly weeping now. _This man..._ This man in front of him was perfection personified, and if Bucky had a _thousand_ lifetimes, he _still_ wasn’t sure he could make himself worthy of someone like Steve Rogers.

But dammit, if he wasn’t going to try. Starting now.

“Steve, how am I — I don’t know how to follow that. I’m not the words guy, you are. That’s you, with the big speeches, and the bigger acts to back them up. You’ve always been that guy who...”

He could do this. _He could do this._

He took Steve by the wrists and had him wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist. Then Bucky draped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and held him close.

“Do you know why I got your back in that fight that day? The day we met? Because I looked at you — that tiny little angry ball of fury — and I knew. I _knew_ you were the kinda person I needed to get to know. The guy I wanted to count as my friend. It never mattered that you lost more fights than you won — oh, you wipe that look of your face, you know you did,” he said as Steve scoffed good-naturedly at him.

 _“Anyway,_ all I knew was that you were something special. There weren’t a whole lotta people who would not only stand up for someone, but back that up when it was necessary. And I knew then — even if I didn’t really _know_ — I knew that you were the person I would wholly and gladly follow straight into Hell. You were _it_ for me, in whatever way that meant to a punk kid like me. I just knew there would never come a day that you weren’t the guy I tied myself to.

“But then, that day _still did come._ I lost _my_ tether.” Steve’s face immediately fell, and Bucky cupped his cheeks. Made Steve focus on him. “No, you listen to me, Steven. That was _not_ your fault. I didn’t lose you that day; we lost each other. You lost me, too. You lost your best friend, and for that, I’ll always be sorry. But _Stevie.”_ Bucky ducked down to catch Steve’s eye when he looked away, and smiled at him. As big as he could. “I got you _back._ We both did. And as much as I hate to admit it, Tony’s right. We’re a fucking _miracle._ So maybe we didn’t do so bad after all. Maybe, if God, or the gods, or whoever’s up there, made it so we got a second chance, maybe we did something right.”

Bucky tugged Steve in, and wrapped his arms around him, tight. He knew there were supposed to be _witnesses_ and all, but really, this next part was for Steve, and Steve only, and fuck everyone else. Despite how his breathing hitched with every inhale, and words were beginning to fail him, he took what little strength he had left and whispered the next part into Steve’s ear.

“So, this is _my_ promise to you. I promise to always do right by you. I promise to be the very best man I can ever _be_ for you. You have stood by me through so much, and the bare minimum I can offer in return is to do the same. And you have my word, I will _always_ honor what you’ve done for me and I will give you _nothing_ less than everything I have in return. I love you, Stevie. With my whole heart.”

Steve held him that much closer, his own breathing labored from where he was still crying, and whispered right back, “I love you too, Buck. With my whole heart.”

“Can we get the rings, please,” Tony asked quietly, interrupting the moment. Though, when Bucky pulled back he didn't miss the tear tracks on Tony’s own face. Well, wonders never ceased.

Natasha and Sam each handed Tony the soft velvet little pouches that held their rings.

“All right, you two,” Tony started as he passed one of the pouches over to Steve. “Just a few more words and the deal will be sealed. You ready?”

Steve’s eyes shone as he shook the ring into his hand before taking Bucky’s metal one. “Since 1936,” he answered with a smile.

“Then here goes: Do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, through the good and the bad, and everything in between, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

And a ring, reborn into forever, slipped easily onto Bucky’s finger. When Steve pressed a kiss to it, Bucky was certain he would combust from the inside out.

He barely registered when Tony dropped his own pouch into his hand. But if there was ever a time he was truly grateful for his metal arm, this was it, considering it was the only part of his body that wasn't shaking. He took care dropping the ring onto his flesh and blood hand, proud when he only fumbled slightly as he took Steve’s hand.

A gasp hit his ears and he looked up to find Steve staring in shock at the ring. _“That’s_ my ring?”

Bucky’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “Well, it _is_ poised to go on your finger right now, so I sure hope so.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Steve looked up at him, and there were those eyes again, shining back at Bucky. “It's _beautiful._ Where did you get it?”

“Oh.” Bucky ticked his gaze away, equal parts relieved and embarrassed. He glanced over at Thor, who was smiling smugly at him. “Um, Thor helped me out with it.”

“This is _Asgardian?”_

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Well, shit,” Steve muttered, and shrugged when Bucky looked at him in surprise. “Wish I'd thought of that.”

Bucky melted a little, even as he cupped Steve’s cheek and gave him a reassuring smile. “I love my ring, Stevie.”

Steve smiled right back. “That makes two of us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“My turn now?” Tony asked and looked between them expectantly.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Tony.” And there were those nerves again. He reaffirmed his hold on Steve’s hand.

“All right then. Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, through the good and the bad, and everything in between, for as long as you both shall live?”

This was it. His smile was watery and he could barely see as he slipped Steve’s ring on his finger, but his voice held strong.

“I do.”

They joined hands, each laughing, and he could tell Steve was vibrating just as hard as he was as they turned to Tony.

(Who was now smiling the biggest smile Bucky had probably ever seen him give. Ever.)

“Well, then! By the powers vested in me by the State of New York and some shady-looking website that Pepper promises checks out, I now pronounce you married.” Bucky barely had time to register what he said, when Tony’s smile dropped into a smirk as he turned to look at Steve. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“Dammit, Tony, I said _no,”_ Pepper exclaimed from somewhere behind Bucky as he turned to scowl at Steve.

“I'm gonna deck him.”

“I'll hold your purse, baby.”

Bucky groaned and dropped his head, even as Steve cackled and gave Tony a high-five.

“You did _not_ plan that!” Bucky whined, but _fuck_ Steve and the look on his face. “I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve's absolutely _obnoxious_ guffaws dissolved into soft laughter as he smiled wide and pulled Bucky in. “Kiss me, husband.”

_Husband._

They were _married._

“You're lucky I like you,” Bucky countered, and as a goofy smile spread across his face, he leaned in for the first kiss of the rest of his life.

The thunderous applause in the background was just a bonus.


	4. The Reception

Bucky’s arms draped lightly over Steve’s shoulders, their bodies pressed together, and Bucky didn’t let Steve — his _husband,_ _fuck_ — have a single moment of air before he was diving back in for another kiss, slow and languid. He felt Steve smile against his lips, and he grazed his fingers through the freshly cut hairs at Steve’s nape, reveling in the little shiver.

“Buck,” Steve started, only to steal his own kiss. “Buck, we need to” — _kiss_ — “we gotta go back out there” — _kiss_ — “at some point.”

Bucky just hummed and pressed himself closer in Steve’s lap, their jackets draped across another chair, the only thing between them the crisp cotton of their dress shirts.

There was supposed to be a gap of time between the wedding and reception, where the married couple disappeared for pictures — Pepper had said so, and they’d even already taken some with their wedding party and friends. So if the remainder of that disappearance included some light making out, Bucky was pretty sure everyone would understand. Probably. Maybe. He didn’t entirely care.

“Come on, Buck,” and Bucky whined against Steve’s lips.

“No.” He pouted. “More kissing. They’ll be there later.”

 _“They_ will. But the sunlight won’t.”

Bucky sighed in resignation, but made no move to get up. The chair in Steve’s trailer wasn’t exactly big enough for the two of them, but they were making do, and come on, just a _little_ bit more time.

Time he apparently _wasn’t_ going to get, not with the obnoxious banging that suddenly came from the door.

“I said _five_ minutes _,_ you two!” Nat shouted. “Not _twenty-five._ Stop having sex and get out here!”

They immediately broke apart, eyes wide, and Bucky would bet even money his face was just as abashedly pink as Steve’s.

“Uuuh....”

“Oops?”

They eyed each other for a heartbeat longer before they both burst into giggles. Bucky nodded. “Yeah, oops seems about right.”

Steve gave him one more quick kiss before Bucky could pull away, then the two disentangled with a soft groan, peeling apart by inches. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of Steve, though. Steve. His _husband,_ Steve. His spouse. His betrothed. Legally bound for the rest of their lives because Pepper wouldn’t let them escape until they'd signed the marriage certificate.

When she’d handed over the pen, Bucky almost dropped it three times, he was shaking so badly. His nerves had been shot to hell, and he could barely _see_ the paper from the slight hyperventilation, let alone sign the stupid thing. _Steve_ had been cool as a cucumber, the bastard, but not Bucky. Bucky had ended up having to sign with his metal hand because he couldn’t get his traitorous human hand under control. Which of course just led to _another_ mild panic attack of Bucky stupidly thinking it wouldn’t count because his metal arm wasn’t his _real_ arm, which meant it wasn’t technically _him_ that had signed it and it was going to get thrown out, and he and Steve weren’t actually married and never would be.

Bless Pepper and her endless patience and reassurance, and Steve for holding his human hand, also assuring him that the metal one was just as much him as flesh and blood, and that he was _fine._ They were married, now and forever.

But that still didn’t mean Bucky could take his eyes off of Steve. His husband, because he got to have things like that now. He got to be married and be happy, and no one was gonna come wake him up from a dream he wouldn’t remember. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

Steve grabbed their jackets as Bucky opened the door for Nat, who was standing on the other side, arms crossed, face stern, and Bucky almost burst out laughing again. She looked _way_ more put-upon mom than international super spy. He prayed she and Clint never decided to go the kid route. That child would never survive those two.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he slipped out the door. He tucked his smile in lest she _actually_ try to kill him. “In our defense, we weren’t actually _having_ sex.”

“Well that’s your own damn fault,” she shot back, eyeing him shrewdly as he walked past.

Steve just averted his eyes with mumbled, “Sorry, Nat,” and followed right after Bucky. Anything to put as much distance between them and her.

She turned on her heel and sauntered down the steps, her gray satin dress swishing softly as she went, not waiting for them to keep up, but expecting them to all the same. They immediately fell into step, jackets going on as she led them over to a small hidden alcove around the corner — a canopy of weathered lumber and handmade benches that looked out across a tiny section of the lake. It was a hidden treasure inside the park that Steve and Bucky had taken advantage of on more than one occasion for a little piece and quiet.

Their photographer, Lizzie, and her two assistants were already there setting up for the first round of shots.

“Uh, sorry ma’am,” Bucky said to her, and ducked his head just as Steve did the same.

She didn’t say anything back, just gave them a sharp nod and continued setting up her equipment, and Bucky wondered hysterically how much she was getting paid not to snap at them in return. He wondered if it would be bad form to tip her on top of that.

“Okay,” Nat began, and they both turned their attention back to her. “Lizzie has about an hour left until it’s too dark to take pictures, so _work with her._ Whatever she tells you two idiots to do, you do. These pictures will be _phenomenal_ , or so help me God, I will make you get dressed up tomorrow and do this all over again. Understood?”

“I love you, Nat. Have I told you how pretty you look?”

“I will _slap_ you, you _kusok der'ma.”_

Bucky smiled at Steve. “She loves me, too.”

“She just called you a piece of shit.”

“Like I said.”

“I will never understand you two, I swear to God.” Steve rolled his eyes and headed over to Lizzie, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’m really sorry about the tardiness, ma’am. We uh, we’re just a little excited about the whole marriage thing. It’s — well, it’s long overdue.”

She eyed him for a minute. “Something like a hundred years in the making, right?”

“Something like that.”

She eventually sighed and shook her own head, smile soft. “Who am I to argue with epic love. I got this.” She held up her camera and nodded toward the benches. “Okay, you two sit down and let’s get this show on the road.

The photo shoot itself was fairly straightforward. They took a series of pictures at the alcove before heading over to the bridge directly across the water from the boathouse. The lighting was perfect, and Bucky thanked every god he could think of for keeping the weather temperate. It _was_ heading into late October after all, and it could easily have been freezing and raining right now, as it was nice.

“I really wish we could take pictures up at the plaza,” Lizzie commented at one point, between sets. She glanced up at the sky, the sun slowly starting to wane. She turned back to them. “You guys sure we can’t just tell people you’re taking photos for something else? Grand Army Plaza would look _amazing_ as a backdrop for your photos.”

Bucky really hoped he wasn’t breaking Steve’s hand from how hard he was gripping it. They _couldn’t_ have the secrecy of their wedding ruined now, not by the damn photographer.

“Steve...”

“Yeah, baby, I know.” Steve kissed his temple, then turned up his most charming Captain America smile. “With all due respect, ma’am, while we’ll probably hang a few of these photos, chances are, I’m going to prefer that any big pieces we hang be paintings I do based on the photos you take.” When she frowned, he turned the wattage up that much more and nodded to the driving bridge up behind the boathouse. “If you’d like, we could take some pictures in front of _that_ bridge, and I’ll swap in the plaza’s archway as a gift for you. To make up for being late.”

“Wait.” That pulled her up short. “You’ll do a _painting_ of my photography for me?”

“A Steve Rogers original.”

That seemed to do the trick, because she smiled wide and started directing her team over to the other bridge.”

_“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”_

Bucky turned to look out across the water, where all their friends were watching them, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Relief seeped into his bones, both from Steve’s intervention and the sheer _lunacy_ of everyone they knew.

A small tug, and he was in the circle of Steve’s arms. “Should we give them what they want?” Steve asked. He was smiling Bucky’s favorite smile, and Bucky all but melted into the embrace.

“Depends.” Bucky returned that smile in kind, his small and impish. “You think they mean _this_ for a kiss?” He leaned in for a light kiss against Steve’s cheek, absolutely delighted at the boos coming from across the water. “Or this?” He pecked Steve on the nose, who’d started giggling, even as the boos rose in crescendo. “Or maybe it was this.” He took Steve’s face in hand and pressed his lips, warm and full of all the love he had, against Steve’s forehead. The boos didn’t die down, but he distinctly heard a few _awwws_ thrown in there.

He let go to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Well...?”

Steve was smiling at him, and it...it was a smile Bucky hadn’t ever seen before. Like Steve was staring into nirvana itself, and Bucky was suddenly hyper aware of the energy between them. Hyper aware of himself, down to every single hair on his head. His eyes were locked with Steve’s, even as he felt an irrational need to turn away. His breath shallowed out, and he wasn’t entirely sure the whole world hadn’t disappeared around them

“No,” Steve answered quietly, his hands ghosting up Bucky’s back.  “I think they were looking for something a bit more like this.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to Bucky’s, and time just...stopped.

The kiss was both soft and unyielding, languid and fevered, sensuous and not enough.  Bucky thought maybe no one had ever kissed him like this before — more importantly _Steve_ had never kissed him like this before. Not their first kiss in 1938, not their first kiss in 2015, not their first kiss two hours ago. Not _ever_.

This kiss was their _future._

He was still rooted to the spot when Steve pulled away, that same look still on his face, and Bucky couldn’t take it. He pulled Steve back in for a hug, and held on for dear life.

 _“Fuck,_ Steve...” he whispered into Steve’s ear. “I love you so goddamn much, you know that?”

“Your whole heart?”

Bucky finally let loose the sniffle that had been threatening him for a while. “My whole heart.”

Steve took one of Bucky’s hands to snake between their bodies and press against their chests. “My whole heart too.”

~~~~

The boathouse — a long narrow structure with a small barge that dipped down to the water’s edge — had been completely transformed. Its french doors had been removed and replaced with drawn back, black velvet curtains, tied in place with thick silver, braided cord. Both the wedding and dinner were taking place inside the boathouse, with the outside dock set up as the early reception area, with tall tables dotted throughout, as well as the dance floor. The tables were covered in a mix of black, silver or white satin, tied off in opposite-colored cords, each adorned with a miniature, propped chandelier. There were also strips of lights overhead and around the doors that reminded Bucky of the sorts of lightbulbs he and Steve used to find at the pictures when they were kids. The whole place had an Old Hollywood feel to it, and Bucky was probably going to be spending the rest of his life thanking Pepper and Nat for all the work they’d done. If anything, he might suggest it as a side business.

Bonnie Tyler’s _Holding Out for a Hero_ began as they walked in, and Steve immediately side-eyed Bucky.

“Whatsa matter, Stevie?” Bucky asked, all wide eyes and innocence, even as he’d tried desperately not to laugh. “Somethin’ bothering you?”

“ _Holding Out for a Hero,_ Buck? _Really?”_

“What?” Bucky shrugged and started following the procession back into boathouse. “It seemed fitting.”

Steve pinched the back of Bucky’s hand from where their fingers were laced together, his eyes alight with amusement. “You calling me your hero, Buck?”

“Oh no, honey. This song is about _you.”_

Steve scowled at him as they walked around the corner, straight into a deafening roar.

Bucky knew that one of the Inhumans that worked with Coulson could control soundwaves. The guy — whose name Bucky could not remember to save his life — had come in real handy during a mission that involved taking down a cloaked Hydra facility in the middle of a small suburban town. Being covert had been of the utmost importance, but so had blowing shit up. Between Wanda’s ability to create misdirection, and the guy’s ability to control the noise, no one knew a Hydra base had literally gone boom in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

And Bucky would put down half of his considerable savings that the same guy was currently controlling the noise decibels surrounding their friends as they made their official entrance into the reception.

“You know, you’d think it wouldn’t be so loud since we’re outside,” Steve remarked, as they took it all in.

“Right?” Bucky smacked him in the chest. “I was just thinking that! How the hell can they be this loud?”

“Superhumans,” Steve answered, sagely, again relaying Bucky’s thoughts.

“We need to find some regular friends.” The DJ was spouting off some stuff about them, and Bucky knew they were supposed to be making a show out of their entrance, but he just wanted to get in and start celebrating. He probably should have pushed back a bit on the pomp and circumstance.

“Well, there’s always Patty,” Steve said nodding to where she was standing next to Thor, hollering at them. Bucky bet she was louder.

“Yeah, she’s the most superhuman of everyone here, Steve. That argument’s not gonna hold much water.”

“Fair point.”

Steve stopped in the middle of the reception area and turned a wide smile on Bucky. The DJ was still talking, but Bucky couldn’t make it out over the din of people. At least not until Steve wrapped him up in a passionate kiss — the movie-style kind, all bent back and swoony like some damn dame, and Bucky probably would have drop-kicked Steve’s ass if he wasn’t so busy laughing against his lips. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, giving in to the moment and the noise and the utter exhilaration that seemed to come from kissing the man he was now _married_ to.

When Steve set him back on his feet, he barely had time to get his bearings before flutes of champagne were being pressed into their hands by Pepper, and damn, her eyes were _glistening._ Bucky just grabbed her hand and pulled her in so he could place a light kiss on her cheek.

“None of that,” he whispered, and her half-smile was everything. He caught Steve’s eye, and no words were needed. He leaned in on her other side just as Bucky kissed her again, and sure enough, he was met with a simultaneous giggle and the flash of a camera. He and Steve laughed and clinked their glasses in self-congratulations. Pepper just tried to compose herself.

“Such _behavior,”_ she said and cleared her throat, batting at them both in turn. “And from two married men.”

“Lips off the lady, gentlemen.” Tony called out. “She’s spoken for.”

“That she is,” Nat responded with a wink.

“You too, Romanoff. She’s mine.”

“She’s _Pepper’s,”_ Pepper shot back, though there was no heat behind it. Then she raised her glass. “Now, if I may, I’d like to toast the couple we’re _actually_ here for —”

“This time.”

“Tony,” Pepper warned, but there was _no_ mistaking the blush in her cheeks, and Bucky glanced, wide-eyed, over her head at Steve, who was fighting back his own smile. Pepper, oblivious to them, kept going. “I’d like to take this moment to congratulate the happy couple, who really... No one has ever deserved a happy ending more than these two. To Steve and Bucky!”

_“To Steve and Bucky!”_

Bucky stepped away from Pepper to wrap an arm around Steve’s waist. They smiled at each other, but just as Bucky lifted his glass to take a sip, Steve slipped in to interlock their arms before either could take a drink.

With an amused laugh, Bucky took his sip from where he was locked with Steve, making sure all the camera flashes caught the moment. Then, with an incandescent sort of happiness running through him — and because he was a little shit — he downed the entire thing like a shot. This wasn’t spiked with Asgardian booze, so there was (hopefully) nothing to worry about in regards to he or Steve getting drunk. And with Steve having the same thought — if his now-empty glass was anything to go by — it just seemed the best sort of decision: it was a party after all. A waiter suddenly appeared with fresh glasses, and they both wasted no time downing those too.

Pepper took that as the cue to announce dinner, and they all headed back inside the boathouse. In the almost two hours it took for them to take all their photos (and make out for a while), it seemed the interior had gone through its transformation from rows of adorned chairs, to a beautiful reception hall. Tall crystal vases with floating white and black candles took the center pieces over black satin tablecloths and silver chairs. The crystal and glass drinkware was clearly antique, and the china was simple — white with a silver trim — except, interestingly, the bottom serving plate, which was actually yellow gold. The only gold in the entire place, in fact, and the touch certainly drew the eye. Steve was probably having a field day with the beauty of it all. Bucky was certain he was going to be seeing paintings of all of this for months. He didn’t entirely mind.

They were seated with the immediate wedding party, and Bucky was still admiring their table when Steve gave his hand a squeeze and he looked up into smiling, expectant eyes. Steve just nodded his head upwards, and when Bucky finally looked, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. High up on the walls, evenly spaced around the room, were paintings made from Bucky’s Instagram photos, designed to look like polaroids, but with a vibrant, almost technicolor edge to them.

Everything from his first photo, to the time he’d caught out Nat and Clint, their Christmas trip that had been cut short, the trip to Disneyland Bucky had _tried_ to get cut short, and all the times he’d taken a picture of himself injured, including some of their stints in the hospital.

“You made these?” Bucky murmured, awestruck as Steve pressed a kiss to his temple. He squeezed Steve’s hand and pulled him away so they could walk the room and look at them all.

“Well, Pepper was talking about the wedding being done in black and white, and I sort of came up with this idea of adding a surreal pop of color to the room.” He shrugged, almost shy. “And, you know, I figured that your Instagram has been so instrumental in helping you get better, and helping us get _here,_ I couldn’t not add it in, ya know?”

Bucky smiled at him, wide and _so_ touched. They were gorgeous, and there were so _many_ of them...

“Wait.” Bucky pulled up short and frowned. “How did you even have the _time_ to do this?” Steve had only been home three weeks from his mission, and yet there had to have been a good thirty images hung up around the room.

Steve flushed crimson. “Oh. Uh. That.” He scratched the back of his neck, not meeting Bucky’s eye, and Bucky had to give him a little shake. When he finally looked up, there was definitely no mistaking the guilt there. “So, um, yeah about that. I’ve uh...”

“Steve?”

“Well.” Steve voice was reed thin as he shook his head. “So, about that. I've been meaning to tell you since, well, since always, but I just couldn't find the right moment, and if I'm being perfectly honest, there were times when I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to tell you, so I didn't, and then it just became —”

_“Steve.”_

“I’ve maybe been making these since the beginning.”

Well, that...huh? Bucky was thoroughly confused. “The beginning of what?”

“Since, well, since the beginning of your Instagram.” The words came out muttered, and even with his super soldier hearing, Bucky barely caught them. Perplexed, all he could do was stare, and Steve half-shrugged before walking again, tugging Bucky along.  “I wanted to be there for you, always have, but I never totally understood why Instagram, of all things, was supposed to help you get better. So, um, I figured that if I _painted_ your therapy — looked at _your_ art through _my_ art — it would help me better understand where you were coming from. You know, why you posted what you did, and why you said the things you said on your posts.”

“These are just the pictures, though,” Bucky said kind of stupidly. He was so floored right now, his brain couldn't seem to catch up with, well, anything.

Steve stopped and turned to him. His eyes were serious, but still full of guilt, and Bucky just had no idea _why._ “On the back of each one I wrote out the copy from your posts.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Then: “Are you mad?”

That...wasn’t. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Because I took your therapy and used it as art? Used it for myself?” Steve’s brows furrowed, like he thought that answer should have been obvious. Except for how it was totally stupid and ridiculous.

Bucky tugged on him to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. “So, hey. You know how we got married earlier?”

“Yeah...?” Steve responded slowly, brows suddenly furrowed, and Bucky leaned in to peck him on the lips.

“Pretty sure I love you more now than I did then.”

“Wait.” Steve shook his head, frown still firmly in place. “So, you’re _not_ mad?”

Bucky laughed before pulling Steve back to their table. “You’re an idiot, Rogers, you know that?” He stopped at their seats, his hand on the back of his chair. “You used my therapy to try and understand me better, and you not only did in a way that made sense to you, but you created something beautiful out of it.” He waved his hand around the room. “And you knew that too, even if you don’t want to admit it. Otherwise you _never_ would have suggested hanging these.”

He kissed Steve again, this one more heartfelt, but still not coming close to how blown away he felt. He wasn’t sure he could _ever_ convey what the pictures meant. He just...had to kiss Steve again, so he did. Wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss, only to bite back a whimper as Steve melted into him. He smiled against Steve’s lips as the cheers and catcalls rose in the background.

“Get a room!” Hunter shouted and Bucky dissolved into laughter, Steve right there with him. He nodded at Nat, who reached around to smack Hunter upside the head. Hunter scowled good-naturedly as Clint and Sam started cackling from the other side of the table. Their friends were all idiots.

“What did I miss? Why are we hitting the secret agent?” Tony asked as he sauntered up to the table, a glass of Scotch in each hand. He set them down long enough to pull a chair out for Pepper, before sitting down himself. He took a hard swig from one of the glasses and looked around the table expectantly.

“Hunter has a problem with our happiness,” Bucky responded with a deep sigh, as he took their coats to put over their chairs. Then he pulled out Steve’s chair for him, and smile he got in return was tiny and bashful. Bucky counted it as a win as he leaned in for a soft kiss.

“I most certainly do _not_ have a problem with your happiness,” Hunter scoffed. “I would just prefer to not worry about whether or not you two will remain upright.” He waved a hand around the room. “We’re in polite company, mate.”

Sam snorted. “The only polite person here is Pepper, and I’ve seen her absolutely _demolish_ people in five words or less. You sure _polite_ is the word you wanna go with?”

“And let’s not forget how often she demolishes _me_ when —”

“If we aren’t allowed to have sex in front of everybody,” Bucky cut in, “you sure as shit aren’t allowed to _talk_ about sex in front of everybody.”

“Excuse you!” Tony grabbed at his chest like he was clutching his damn pearls. “I was talking about how easily Pep here can take down Iron Man when she’s gone all Extremis.”

 _“Tony.”_ Pepper smacked _him_ upside the head, just as he was taking a drink, and a small spray of Scotch went across his plate. Pepper just stared at him, like the man should have known better than to be drinking when he was talking about her. He probably should have. “You’re making it sound like I’m some sort of loose cannon.” She looked around the table. “He’s talking about when we spar.”

Clint’s eyes went wide. “And we’re sure that’s not just a euphemism for —”

“Honey, if you finish that sentence, I will kill you bloody in your sleep tonight.” Nat smiled sweetly at him, and Bucky eyed Steve, both thinking the same thing: even money said she wasn’t even kind of kidding.

“No killing an Avenger, Nat,” Steve said. “I’m pretty sure Coulson has rules against it. In a handbook or something.”

“And the paperwork would just be a bitch,” Sam added. “Are you sure you want that headache?”

Nat just shrugged and picked up her wine. “No one makes jokes about the ladies around here. Not on my watch.”

Bucky cradled her head and placed a kiss on her temple. “And this is why I both fear and respect you, _rebenok devochka.”_

“Damn right, you do.”

They exchanged a quick kiss and smiled at each other. He’d meant what he said; she was probably the most fearsome person he’d ever met in his entire life. And after everything he’d faced, that was truly saying something.

Dinner started after that, first with oyster appetizers and drinks, followed by a choice of charred shishito peppers, a butter lettuce salad, or straight up thick-cut smoked bacon with a maple glaze drizzle. The guests then had a choice between filet mignon, roasted buttermilk chicken, or dover sole. Matt and Emily _really_ outdid themselves on this one, considering they were famous for pizza, and not fine cuisine. But they could’ve fooled Bucky on that one: the food was phenomenal.

Plus, Bucky and Steve being Bucky and Steve, they didn’t have to _choose_ so much as have one of everything. And considering how little Bucky — and Steve, he guessed — had actually eaten that day, it wasn’t a surprise they both were able to keep up with their friends, who were all eating probably less than a third of what they were. Having a super soldier constitution was actually _fun_ sometimes.

The conversation was fantastic, and the rest of their friends and guests came over between courses to offer their congratulations. Thor had tried to offer them both a small pour of Asgardian whiskey, but considering they were less than a week out from their trip to Never Never Land, he and Steve had politely turned it down. It had just seemed safer.

It was _nice._ As Bucky worked through his food, he took in the whole room. Everyone who had become important to him in some way this century was here, and it wasn’t because there was a crisis, or the world was in peril. It was a good day.

Dinner had come and gone, and Bucky was enjoying his friends company as they chatted about random things. Thor, Jane, and Bruce had pulled up chairs by Tony, and the four were having some animated conversation about the bridge to Asgard. Wanda was currently sitting on Clint’s lap while Pietro was standing over them, he and Clint discussing some new arrow Tony was working on that might actually be faster than Pietro, though Pietro kept saying he’d believe it when he saw it. Wanda was talking Sam, laughing so hard at something he said, Clint had to brace her around the waist to keep her from falling over. Darcy had sat herself down on Nat’s lap, and was currently playing some sort of clapping game with Hunter, that, considering how tipsy they _both_ appeared to be, meant they screwed up almost every time they hit the second go-round. Pepper had wandered off, probably to do more wedding duty stuff.

“Where did we find these people?” Bucky asked.

“Beats me,” Steve replied. “I was too busy being on ice for seventy years.”

“And I was too busy being an assassin,” Nat added. She gripped Darcy’s waist and turned to smile at Bucky. “It’s like we’re misfit magnets or something.”

“Well, at least we aren’t a magnet for, like, _bankers,_ or something. I don’t need boring in my life.”

Steve snorted and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, their fingers laced together. “Buck, from the moment you took that swing at Marvin that day on the playground, our lives have been anything but boring.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

There was suddenly a light tinkling noise, and Bucky looked over to find Pepper standing just behind their table, holding a microphone and clinking a champagne glass. She smiled and waited expectantly as the room quieted down and everyone went back to their respective seats.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” she started, “this is the point where we take a moment and give the Best Man and Best Lady” — she winked at Nat, who (of course) winked back — “a chance to say a few words. Sam, would you like to go first?”

Sam stood up, a glass of champagne also in his hand. He smiled big and wide and gap-toothed, his eyes already alight with humor. “So! As many of you know, I actually met Steve not long before the whole _incident_ went down with Buckaroo over here. What a lot of you _don't_ know is that the actual first time I met Steve, the trolling bastard had decided to interject a little humor into his morning run by going out of his way to lap my ass. Thought he was being _funny,_ this one.” He smirked at Steve and the whole room laughed. “Not gonna lie, I thought he might actually have been hitting on me. I mean, if you know Steve, showing up a guy is definitely his idea of romance.”

“Ain't _that_ the truth,” Bucky muttered under his breath, only to be smacked in the arm with a petulant, “Hey!” Bucky just shrugged, because Sam wasn't wrong about that one.

Sam grabbed Steve’s shoulder and gave him an affectionate shake. “Hey, man, no one’s blaming you.” He waved a hand at himself. “Everyone needs a little chocolate frosting in their lives.”

“No denying that!” Maria shouted from somewhere among the tables, and the room erupted again in laughter. Steve, though, had his face buried in his hands, his ears bright red, and oh.

_Oh!_

“Wait...” Bucky stared at him, pointing, because he _knew_ that particular shade of pink around Steve’s hairline. “You _were_ trying to hit on him!” Bucky exclaimed, laughing so hard, he fell over sideways. “Oh my _God,_ Steve!”

“I was not,” Steve replied weakly, and oh hell yes, he was.

“Oh my God, Sam.” By then, Bucky was laughing into his arm, head on the table. He looked up and gave Sam a commiserating shake of his head. “I'm so sorry you had to witness that.”

“Hey, I'm not the one who decided to stick myself with his silly ass for the next millennia.”

“Huh. True. Honey, I may need to rethink all of this.”

Steve scowled at him, though the anger never met his eyes. “You're a real asshole, Barnes, you know that?”

Bucky just patted his cheek, completely tickled. “But at least I'm your asshole, baby. No need to try those slick moves on anyone else ever again.”

“I hate everyone here.”

Bucky snickered and stole a kiss before leaning in. “Okay, but you _are_ gonna tell me later how I never knew about this, right?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Steve said, with a slight shrug. “Would you have ever let me hear the end of it if I had?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Exactly.”

Bucky threw his arms around Steve’s neck, his smile gleeful. “Too bad Sam beat you to it. Now I really _won’t_ ever let you hear the end of it.”

“I might have to kill Sam.”

“At least wait until after the reception. Less messy where there aren’t witnesses.”

“Good point.” Steve kissed him then, slow and deep, and Bucky fell right into it, all thoughts of a wedding and a reception and _eyeballs_ on them, gone. It was only when someone cleared their throat and he felt a sharp jab in his side from Nat, did it all come flooding back, and he jerked away, sheepish, but _so_ not sorry.

“You done?” Sam asked, eyebrow cocked.

“It’s my wedding day.”

“Wedding _day.”_ Nat poked him again. “Not wedding _night.”_

He turned a wide smile on her. “I care not.”

“I’m with him,” Steve added, then shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Whatever, man.” Sam gave Steve a shove. “Think I can continue?”

Bucky waved a hand at him. “Oh, by all means.”

“Oh, gee, thank you.” Sam rolled his eyes, but still went on. “As I was _saying,_ meeting Steve was an adventure, and it hasn’t let up since. But I only knew Steve a short while before he realized Bucky was alive — barely a couple weeks. But even in that short period of time, I could see how lost the man was. I always chalked it up to —” He turned to Steve. “What’s that catchphrase you hate so much?”

“Man Out of Time,” Steve supplied with a tight smile.

“That’s the one.” Sam gave his shoulder another squeeze. “I always figured that the reason I never saw a smile in his eyes was his displacement. Thought I knew a little something about that, being a war vet and all. But I was wrong.” Then he smiled at both of them. “It didn’t take me long after Bucky came back into the picture for me to realize that Steve was only half of a whole. That _that_ had been the problem the whole time.

“You know, it’s a rare thing to meet two people who are truly soulmates. So rare, in fact, that I don’t think I ever have. I’ve seen love that’s lasted a lifetime before — my parents being no exception — but there’s just something _different_ about it, when it’s your honest-to-god soulmate. You can love someone, fiercely, your whole life — devote yourself to them — but you’re still you. You _could_ survive without them, if you had to. Life would go on. And I gotta tell you, once Bucky came home, I realized that, during that brief period that I knew Steve when he thought Bucky was long dead, I’d been staring at a man that _wasn’t_ surviving. Who had no concept of how to live, because the thing that made him _Steve_ was missing from who he was.”

Sam paused. He picked up his water glass and took a sip, then sighed into it like maybe his thoughts were buried at the bottom of the crystal. Bucky was kind of trying not to get up and hug him.

When he set the glass back down, there was a sheen to his eyes, his voice catching. “You know, some might call what you guys have unhealthy. That codependency is no way to live. But I... I just can’t believe that, at least not for you two. As a counselor, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I think you two have _earned_ that codependency.”

And more importantly? It’s _love,_ man — love that I’m fairly certain no one in this room as ever seen. What you have? It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t come along once in a generation: It’s the kind of thing that comes along once in a millennium. What you have...it just doesn’t _exist._ And I’m just gonna say what every single person who knows you two are thinking: If I could find even a _tenth_ of that kind of love, I’d be the luckiest sonofabitch alive.

“So, Bucky, thanks for not dying. And thank you for working _so_ hard to come home. Because, if not for you, none of us would be here today.” He turned toward the audience, his glass raised, though Bucky could hardly see it for the tears threatening to spill over. He picked up his own glass, even as Steve turned to breathe him in. “Here’s to Steve and Bucky, but mostly to Bucky. You’ve been through hell, man, and yet you fought tooth and nail to make it here today. No one deserves happiness more than you.”

 _“To Bucky,”_ the whole room chorused, and Bucky had to duck his head, because hand to God, he was _still_ constantly amazed by the love he got from his friends.

Light fingers touched his chin, and he turned watery eyes on Steve.

“To Bucky,” Steve breathed and pressed their lips together, the kiss salty and perfect. He cupped Steve’s neck to hold him in place, because he wasn’t ready to face the room.

When they parted, he and Steve stood and each pulled Sam into a fierce hug. Sam gave as good as he got, holding on with a quiet, “I got you, man, I get it,” when it was all Bucky could do to just find the words for a simple thank you.

The mic was passed over to Nat, and Bucky returned to snuggle up to Steve. He brought Steve’s hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss against his palm.

Nat cleared her throat and stood up, a tight half smile on her face. There was a piece of paper tucked into her hand, and she was gripping it so tight, it was on the verge of ripping. Bucky reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then pried it loose. He took the paper and set it on the table, where she could still see it, then took her hand again, a steady balance.

Like him, she belonged to the shadows, and he could see that the discomfort of her having to speak in front of a room full of people was palpable. He wouldn’t have been surprised she’d just left the speech duty to Hunter, but she probably knew as well as him that if Hunter had had the microphone, that speech probably would have ended with Bucky in handcuffs, because no way would Hunter not tell some highly embarrassing, and highly _illegal,_ story about him. Of which there were many.

“I’m, uh...not exactly sure how I’m supposed to follow that,” she started with a huff of laughter, and Bucky gave her an encouraging smile. “I feel like I’ve known Bucky my entire life, even though, like him, there are parts that are — how shall I put this — fuzzier than others.” Her sardonic smile told the room all they needed to know on the subject. “But, unlike Sam, my time with Bucky, before Steve came into our lives, wasn’t something of loss and missing soulmates. I guess the best way to describe it is that we were too lost to know loss. Our minds, and our bodies, did not belong to either of us. So we didn’t know yet what we were missing.

“I spent a few years with Bucky long before I met Steve, but I had lost those years for quite some time. During Project Insight, I actually only knew him as both the ghost story and the man who, you know, shot a _hole_ through me.” There was a smattering of laughter as she mock-glared at him and he wrinkled his nose in response.

“But, um, since then, we’ve both rediscovered who we were, and realized that, despite everything, I don’t think anyone on this earth understands what I went through like he does, and that made us something of kindred spirits. He’s been my best friend ever since.

“And, Steve, I think that’s why you and I became such fast friends. Even if I didn’t know it, I saw a bit of my _kotenok_ in you. Because, Sam’s right. You two are the closest thing I think I’ll ever see to actual soulmates in my life. Which means, I guess, a little bit of Bucky lives in you, just like I think the reverse is probably true. And seeing you too _finally_ reunited, I just...it’s something that I — I mean...” She stopped and took Bucky’s metal hand, her grip tight enough to break human fingers. Jaw tight and trembling, she started to blink, her eyes darting all over the room. She finally landed on him, silently pleading, and he was on his feet, his arms tight and secure around her as she clung to him. He could feel the wetness seeping into his shirt collar, but of course he didn’t care. This was his _malen'kiy pauk,_ and he would always protect her against the world.

“I’m so happy for you,” she murmured against his neck. _“God,_ you deserve this.”

“I hope so,” he whispered back.

“Of course you do, you _eblan.”_

He just laughed softly and held her while she got out everything in her system. Then she pulled away just enough to reach around him and pull Steve into their little circle. She stayed wrapped in Bucky’s arms, while Steve enveloped them both.

“If you hurt him, they’ll never find your body,” she stated, muffled against Bucky’s chest.

“Duly noted,” Steve replied, he smiled at Bucky over the top of her head.

“And _you, catulus.”_ She poked him in the ribs and looked up, eyes red-rimmed, but serious (and fucking _hell,_ how did girls always maintain perfect makeup like that). “If you hurt _him,_ I’m reinstating the use of the guillotine.”

“Just as long as you make it a good show. I won’t have it any other way.”

Nat just shook her head and went back to hugging them. “Fucking drama queen.”

“He keeps things interesting,” Steve agreed, with a laugh.

They disentangled after that and Nat picked the microphone back up. She held up her champagne glass, and Bucky and Steve picked up their own. “To Steve and Bucky. The two most deserving _pridurki_ I know.”

 _“To Steve and Bucky,”_ everyone chimed in, with no clue as to what she’d just called them. Then they erupted into a loud cheer, and Bucky looked around at all their friends. Everyone who had ever loved and cared about them were here, had paid witness to their marriage, and were now toasting that in celebration. Ten years ago, Bucky had no idea who any of these people even _were,_ and now here he was. Celebrating the rest of his life with each and every one.

He couldn’t turn and kiss Steve fast enough.

~~~~

The dinner itself broke up after that, and most of the guests wandered out onto the deck. It was a nice night for October, and right now, all anyone cared about was drinking, dancing, and having a good time.

But first, Steve and Bucky had to have their first dance. Apparently _no one_ was allowed to dance until they did. Something about rules and all.

They made their way out of the boathouse and onto the dance floor. Bucky was just about to step into Steve’s arms when Steve held up a hand. “Actually, I have something else first.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow, confused. “You mean something _besides_ the thing that’s keeping this party from getting started?”

“Yep.” Steve pecked him on the lips. “Something else.”

He walked over to the DJ booth and grabbed one of the mics before coming back and taking Bucky’s hand. He gave Bucky a sly smile, and all right then, Bucky had no fucking clue what was going on, but he could be game to whatever.  

Steve turned to address the crowd gathered at all the tables and held up a hand. “Can I have everyone’s attention please?”

“You already _have_ our attention, mate.”

“You know, there’s a reason I always call you _Captain Obvious,_ right?” Sam added, and Hunter reached across the table to clink glasses.

“The same reason you call Bucky _Sergeant Sarcastic?”_

Hey, that was — “Yeah, that’s fair,” Bucky conceded, with a shrug.

Sam just laughed and pointed his drink at them. “Not quite the same reason, but good to know you’re paying attention.”

“Think I can have the floor back now?” Steve shot back.

“You mean how you let me have it earlier?”

“It only counts if you plan on making out with Clint.”

Clint perked up, his smile wide. “As long as we film it!”

“Fucking men,” Maria muttered and pulled away from Sam to go stand with Wanda and Bobbie again.

Bucky burst out laughing. “See what you get, Sam? Stop being such a dude!”

Sam waved a hand at Steve. “I didn’t start that, he did!” Then he waved a hand at Clint. “And he finished it!”

“Pick better friends!”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Steve waved him off. “Can we get back to me, please? I’m actually trying to do something here.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, baby.” Bucky bounced a little on the balls of his feet and pecked a light kiss to Steve’s cheek. “The floor is yours.”

“Gee, that’s so kind of you.”

“S’why you married me.”

“Oh, is that why?”

“That and, you know,” Bucky waggled his eyebrows at him, “for other stuff.”

 _“Anyway...”_ Steve snorted and shook his head before finally taking the mic to address the crowd. “Okay, so as many of you know, Bucky and I have a bit of an unconventional anniversary.” Bucky nodded as a smattering of laughter picked up from around the deck. Steve smiled knowingly at him.

“But for those that don’t know, Bucky and I don’t celebrate the day we became a couple, but more the turning point of Bucky starting to find his way back home. Our relationship started so long ago, it always seemed weird to celebrate that. Do we say we’re celebrating our eightieth anniversary? Or our tenth, if you factor in time apart?” Bucky gave Steve’s hand a tiny squeeze and smiled up at him encouragingly. It really had been a hard discussion, that one.

Steve squeezed back and took a deep, slow breath. “So, after a long talk, we realized that what mattered most to us _now_ was Bucky’s return. Because _that_ was the point where we knew we were going to get a second chance. That was the point that started us towards this, uh, forever path.” He shook his head, his face pinking slightly, his smile almost embarrassed.

“Anyway. This past anniversary was actually the day I proposed to Bucky.” Steve paused again, long enough to allow that sentiment to ripple through the crowd, everyone eventually awwing, and dammit, now _Bucky_ was blushing.

He ducked his head as Steve continued, slipping out of Bucky’s hand and walking over to the middle of the dance floor. “But _Bucky_ here got me something just as special. After our mission at Saluzzo, there was a church that got damaged, and I guess after he made...some sort of donation to their rebuilding efforts...?” Bucky nodded in affirmation. “Well, I guess they gave him a piece of the church’s original wall so he could give it to me for me to paint.”

Then he turned his attention fully on Bucky. “Baby, I know you think that all you got me was a piece of rock — as you so colorfully put it — but I said it before and I’ll say it again. You saw beauty in something, and you saw _me_ in that beauty, and you just...you _know_ me.” He paused, his breath hitching, and _God,_ Bucky wanted to go to him so badly. Even took a step, only to be waved off by Steve, even as he started wiping his eyes. “What others would regard as just rubble — more destruction and a destroyed building — you looked at it and saw something that could be made beautiful again. And you gave that to me. So, um, I’m giving that back to you.”

He shoved the mic in his pocket and walked over to the backside of the boathouse, only to return with the slab in hand, followed by one of the staff, carrying what looked like some sort of stand. The staff member propped it up near the back center of the dance floor, then Steve gently placed the slab into it. Bucky was halfway across the dance floor before he even realized he’d started moving, curiosity at the swirl of soft pastels and little faces peeking out from behind Steve. When Steve finally stepped aside, Bucky pulled up short, shock rippling straight through him. There was _no way..._

“Is that...?”

“Yeah, baby, it is,” Steve answered quietly, even as he reached for Bucky’s hand — something they both very much needed, if the mutual shaking was anything to go by.

Steve grabbed the mic out of his pocket and turned back to their friends, Bucky’s eyes still glued to the slab in front of him. “So, uh, the summer after we met, Coney actually installed its first photo booth — yes, we _are_ in fact old enough to predate photo booths, shut up, Tony.” He huffed out a nervous laugh. _“Anyway,_ our moms took us down to the water a few times that summer, but it was on our...second? third? trip that we saw the booth on the boardwalk. And I guess we asked them if we could get our pictures —”

“Begged,” Bucky murmured. “Begged _hard,_ actually.”

Steve laughed. “That’s right. I think _one_ of us might even have been on the verge of a tantrum until they finally relented.”

Bucky pinched Steve’s side but still smiled at the memory. Because pictures weren’t like they were now. They weren’t like the tens of thousands Bucky has on his server, the countless number he takes on any given day. The hundreds already on his Instagram. At that time they were _rare._

And the photos from that photo booth were “...the very first photos we had ever taken together,” Steve said, practically finishing Bucky’s thought.

Steve nudged him to the side to show their friends that he, Steve Rogers — who still managed to surprise Bucky after all this time — had somehow painted those photos in ethereal pastel tones along the entire length of the slab.

Bucky ignored the reactions from the guests, and instead turned imploring eyes to Steve. “How...where...how did you _find_ these?”

Steve set the mic on the DJ booth before giving Bucky a tiny, almost sheepish, smile. “So, do you remember a few years ago when I did the exhibit at the Smithsonian? Well, um...” He scratched the back of his neck and pulled Bucky closer. “I actually found them then. They had a ton of our stuff that never made it into the actual exhibit — stuff they didn’t think was important enough to display. Guess they didn’t know these were our first pictures together. Plus, you know, they were _really_ faded. But, uh” — he tapped his own head — “eidetic memory and all; I could just fill in the blanks.”

 _“Wow,_ Steve. You’re just _full_ of keeping things from me today, aren’t you,” Bucky teased, eyebrow arched as he lightly punched Steve in the ribs. Steve just made a face at him. “But seriously, though, how come I never knew about this?”

“Because, um, I thought I would take them home right away and, you know, paint them somehow. But, Buck, I was _so drained_ after that exhibit, and I couldn’t think of a good idea, and the pictures just _sat_ there, in the back of our safe at the warehouse, and the more time that went on, the harder it was for me to think of the best way to bring them back to life, but I still wanted to _wait_ and surprise you with them by doing something like this, but I...”

Bucky rested his free hand against Steve’s cheek. Steve was starting to freak out — probably worried he’d been caught out twice in one day — and that was the _last_ thing Bucky wanted. He pressed his lips against Steve’s, smiling when Steve yielded to the touch. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad, okay? Wasn’t mad earlier; not mad now.” He smiled Steve’s favorite smile, let him know everything was all right. “I just...how you keep finding ways to _floor_ me, I’ll never know.”

Steve’s next kiss tasted of relief. “No, I’m sorry. I should have told you. But, actually, I’m kind of glad, in a way, that I didn’t. Because, I swear, Buck, when I saw this?” He nodded at the slab, the pictures a swirl of pinks and blues and golds, greens and purples, stacked together, one bleeding into the next. “I knew. I _knew_ this was what those photos were waiting for. You gave me my inspiration.” He smiled at Bucky. “You _are_ my inspiration.”

Bucky leaned in for another kiss, and wondered just how many different ways there were to say _I love you._

~~~~

“You know, I almost vetoed this,” Bucky commented as they finally got ready for their first dance, the slab still sitting in its place of honor after everyone had come up to look at Steve’s work. He nodded at it. “Also, you’re moving that thing before everyone starts dancing. No way we’re risking someone’s drunk ass knocking it over.”

“Well, obviously — wait, what?” Steve frowned, his brow crinkling, all adorable-like. “You didn’t want a first dance? How come?”

Bucky shrugged. “Because we’re not big spotlight people? And this puts us front and center while people watch us _dance._ And that just...” He bit back a smile. “This is just gonna be so _embarrassing_ for you.”

“Oh, you mean seeing as how _you_ can’t dance?”

Bucky scoffed, even as he turned in Steve’s arms. “Excuse you, no one in our neighborhood could do a better Foxtrot than me.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Buck.”

Bucky laughed, even as the first strains of Fred Astaire’s _The Way You Look Tonight_ picked up. The song had been such an easy pick for both of them, seeing as how it was the song they’d spent an entire night listening to when Bucky had taught Steve how to dance.

_Someday, when I’m awfully low..._

“You know for someone who claims I can’t dance, I sure do remember you begging me to teach you how,” Bucky teased, as they turned slowly around the dance floor, going at their own pace despite the midtempo of the song.

“Oh, please.” Steve gripped his hand, and Bucky laughed as Steve spun him out before pulling him back in close. He really _was_ a good dancer, the grace of a fighter transitioning smoothly into dance steps. “I didn’t beg you. _You_ were the one who begged _me_ to let you teach me. Something about how I’d get dates faster that way.”

_There is nothing for me but to love you..._

“Joke’s on you, though,” Steve went on. He tightened his grip on Bucky’s waist, and Bucky was _certain_ his heart was fit to burst. Any moment now. “Because you were right. Letting you teach me how to dance really did get me a date faster. Got me a dancing date with _you_ that very night.”

“Steve...”

_Lovely... Never, never change..._

There was no space left between them, their hearts beating together where Bucky could feel them through their dress shirts. Bucky looped his arms around Steve’s neck as Steve rested their foreheads together. They were barely turning at this point, just swaying to the music of their past. A past that was now their future.

“Best date I ever had, you know,” Steve stated quietly.

“Makes two of us.”

“Not even that date with Betty from down the street?”

“Yeah, she was great. But she wasn’t you.” Bucky brushed their lips together. “No one ever was, or ever will be.”

“Better not be.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, the piano bridge reminding him of an evening spent full of missteps and off-beats. Of Steve’s laughter, and his frustration. The crushed toes and countless tripping. He smiled because, honestly, teaching Steve how to dance had been a total ruse, and he couldn’t remember if either of them had really known it at the time, but he guessed it didn’t matter. Being in love with another man wasn’t easy back then, and their relationship had come along so achingly slow; but luckily time, as it turned out, had eventually been on their side.

_Just the way you look tonight_

The song ended and they smiled at each other, both sharing in the memory of how far they’d come, even as applause rose around them. He glanced over to find Natasha leaning up against Clint, clapping along with everyone else, tears in her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her lips and mouthed, _ya tebya lyublyu._

He smiled at her and mouthed back, _I love you, too._ Then he moved to pull away, only for Steve’s fingers to tighten in his shirt. He frowned, not missing the sudden pink in Steve’s cheeks. “Stevie?”

“Uh...um, not yet. I...” He glanced towards the DJ booth, only to flick his eyes over to where Pepper was standing at the edge of the dance floor. She smiled and nodded, and Steve turned back to him, his eyes wide and nervous. “I, uh, I got you something. Something else.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Got me something else?”

Then Steve pulled away just enough to address the crowd. “So, um, as a lot of you know, I was actually away on a mission for about half the planning process of this. Ironically enough, I was a guest at _another_ engagement party at a palace that needed infiltration. As it, uh, turned out, the host had had a number of musical guests come through for the couple, and —” Steve barked out a laugh, hysterical, as he scratched at the back of his head before turning to glance at the DJ again. Bucky finally turned to look and —

What.

That was.

No _fucking_ way.

Bucky turned back to Steve, thumb pointing over his shoulder. “That's _John Legend.”_

Steve's face was beet red. “Yeah.”

“Why is John Legend at our wedding?” He felt so dumb, like he should know this one. He glanced back again, and yep, there was John _fucking_ Legend, still standing there He smiled patiently at them, only to then flick wide, wary eyes on — oh, _Jesus._ “And why is Parker carrying an _entire_ grand piano? What have I told you about letting him eat the Wheaties in the morning?”

“Well, John needs a piano,” Steve replied, his face still a spectacular shade of red. Peter set the piano down next to _John Legend,_ followed by a team of workers who began setting up sound for it.

Bucky hated seeing the nervousness on Steve’s face. Whatever reason the addition of _John Legend_ at their wedding, it had to be something amazing. He wrapped his fingers into Steve’s dress shirt and tugged him close, his eyes searching. “Hey, what’s this all about? What’s with the nerves?”

“Nerves? I’m not —” He frowned, only to shake it off with a deep sigh. He glanced quickly at the new setup again. “I’m not nervous. It was just that, one of the songs he performed at the prince’s reception, well I just...” He captured Bucky’s lips, then huffed as he caught Bucky’s eye, his expression so earnest. “John Legend is at this reception, performing this song, and I have never felt more _...disconnected_ from you. Never felt such a _need_ to have you close again. It was actually the day you called me, and I guess maybe that’s why the song was such a punch to the gut, but you know, it didn’t matter. I just needed you. Right then.” He cupped Bucky’s face, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “So I did whatever I had to do to come home.”

Bucky just... Steve _got_ him. Got that _need_ to be wherever Bucky was, because damn if Sam hadn’t been right on the nose. Because sometimes the absence of each other was worse than a missing limb, and if anyone should know how that felt, it was Bucky. And _something_ had created this driving need in Steve to bring himself home, into Bucky’s arms, where they _both_ belonged.

He wrapped his fingers loosely around Steve’s wrists. “So what is it? What’s the song?”

In answer, Steve turned towards Mr. Legend and gave a nod.

When the first strains of piano picked up, Bucky ducked his head as the tears began to slip silently down his face.

He _knew_ this song.

It had always been everything he’d ever thought of when he thought of Steve.

_What would I do without your smart mouth..._

They wrapped each other up and began to sway to the music, letting the words sweep them away, even as they clutched onto each other like a lifeline. If Bucky was openly crying now, Steve was right there with him, his nose buried Bucky’s shoulder as they turned in slow circles. There was no world outside of them and the music, and Bucky wondered if maybe he could just live here forever.

_You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind_

_God,_ that Fred Astaire song had been such an easy choice. It was their _history_ , their past that made up _them._ But it had been just that. An _easy_ choice. Why had Bucky never even thought of the possibilities...

_‘Cause I give you all of me_

“You’re my everything, you know that.” His words were barely audible, but Steve’s grip tightened just the same. “How did we end up here?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly, voice muffled. “I’d like to say we fought for it, but we both know...”

“Yeah.” Bucky knew. He really did.

_You’re my downfall, you’re my muse_

_My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues_

Sam really had been right. The connection between Bucky and Steve was something even Bucky couldn’t comprehend. The two of them had a gravitational pull that had been there since the moment they’d met, all those years ago, on the playground. Bucky had been too you to understand love at first sight, but it certainly had been _something_ at first sight. The moment he’d seen Steve, that had been it.

_Love your curves and all your edges_

_All your perfect imperfections_

“Stevie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve ran his hand lightly up Bucky’s back and pulled away enough to catch his eye.

“You’d said that you vowed to always find me. Next room or next life, and all that.”

“Yeah...?”

Bucky breathed, slow and soft, and smiled. His perfect, beautiful boy. “So what if that’s what this is? I mean, we both agreed that the day we met, even if didn’t know it, there was no going back. What if...” He frowned and looked at Steve, searching. “What if that _had_ been us finding each other in the next life?”

_Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts_

Steve didn’t answer immediately, brows furrowed in thought. It was a minute or two before he answered. “Well, I’d have to say that I’d believe it.”

“You think so?”

“You aren’t sure?”

“Honestly?” Bucky spun Steve out, slowly, before pulling him back in. “Had you asked me that when we were kids, I wouldn’t have been able to comprehend enough to say yes. Had you asked me during the war, I would have said that kind of hopefulness was total bullshit. And, well, we won’t even talk about what my answer would’ve been when I was the Winter Soldier.”

“And now?”

_You're my end and my beginning_

“Every time, Steve,” he answered, serious and heartfelt. He stopped them in the middle of the dance floor and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s nape, those gorgeous blue eyes searching his. “Every lifetime, if it’s not you finding me, it’s gonna be me finding you. _Every_ time, no matter how far in the future — or how far into the _past_ — that goes.”

Steve gave Bucky his favorite half smile. “End of the line?”

Bucky just shook his head. “Fuck the end of the line. As far as I’m concerned, this damn train’s going straight into eternity.”

“Sap.”

“I blame you for that.”

_I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you_

The song ended, but they barely noticed. It had been a day of barely notices and lost moments, a world that didn’t exist outside of them. And this was no different, not when Bucky found himself wrapped up in those strong arms, Steve's lips on his, the world falling away yet again.

Steve was the first to pull away, just far enough to rest his forehead against Bucky’s. “You’re my best friend, Buck.”

“Hey, would you look at that.” Bucky smiled, serene and incandescently happy. “You’re mine too.”

Steve beamed at him, and he almost had to laugh, it was so adorable. Instead he just stole another kiss before taking Steve’s hand. They walked over to Mr. Legend.

“Thanks so much for this, John,” Steve said, as he shook his hand. Then he wrapped his arm around Bucky's shoulder and turned a proud smile on him. “I’d like to introduce you to my husband, James Barnes.”

There was that word again. _Husband._

Bucky tried not to sound too flustered when he took fucking _John Legend’s_ hand. “It’s just Bucky. And what he said. Thanks for doing this, Mr. Legend.”

“It’s just John, man,” he answered. “And seriously, the honor is mine. I’ve been a huge fan of both of you since I was a little kid. Actually, I remember being _pissed_ when I was about three and my mom said the Howling Commandos had only been part of World War II and a little after, and that I couldn’t grow up to be one.”

“Just say the word, and we’ll make you an honorary member,” Steve answered, and John’s eyes lit right up.

_“Seriously?”_

Bucky nodded. “We’ll make sure we get a set of wings out to you.”

It was like someone had just set a kid loose in a candy store. John started bouncing, his eyes alight as they searched out past Bucky. “Okay, this is the _best._ Wait until I tell Crissy. Wait until I tell my _ma.”_ He turned back to them. “Can I go on a mission with you guys?”

“An _outreach_ mission, maybe,” Steve answered.

John waved a hand at them. “Good enough; I’ll take it.”

Bucky liked this guy. He laughed and clapped John on the shoulder. “Yeah, buddy, I’ll send you several pairs. Feel free to put them on anything you want.”

John was already rubbing his hands together. “I actually have the _perfect_ leather jacket.”

“Well, until then,” Steve clapped him on the other shoulder. “Feel free to stay and party with us.”

“Oh, yeah, Pepper already said I could. Brought the wife and everything,” he said with a nod back towards the guests. Sure enough, there was Crissy Teigen, standing next to Pepper.

“Hey, didn’t you actually write this song for her?” Bucky asked, eyes still on Chrissy. She was smiling and shaking her head at them.

“Yeah, I did.”

Bucky grinned and turned back, his hand extended. “Then an extra thank you for letting us use it tonight.”

John shook his hand. “Hey, anything to spread the love.”

~~~~

The party went into full swing after that. The open bar was flowing, and almost everyone who was _there_ was out on the dance floor (though Clint seemed to be missing, and Bucky suspected he was trying to see if there was any food left). Steve, as promised, had taken the slab and placed it in one of trailers for safe keeping. Bucky wandered off to mingle with their friends.

When he spotted Patty, he stopped just long enough to wrapped her up in his arms from behind and plant a wet squishy kiss on her cheek. She batted at him, flustered, trying to act put upon, but she couldn’t keep her smile in, and all Bucky could think as he kept weaving through the tables was that she reminded him of what his own ma would have been like as a grandmother, and vowed never to let that woman out of his life. He was sure Steve felt the same.

He spotted Thor towards the back, laughing uproariously at Fandral, while Volstagg tried to talk over both of them. They were all dressed in suits from Earth — dressed to the nines, actually, in full three-piece suits — and it was such a bizarre sight, Bucky faltered on his way over to them.

Well, _almost_. Bucky was on a mission.

“Hey, Thor!” he called out as he got closer.

“James!” Thor exclaimed before picking him up in a huge bear hug. When he set Bucky down, his face was flushed and jovial, and his smile could light the sun. “How are you, my friend? Where’s your husband?” He glanced over Bucky’s head, searching.

“Not sure, probably off flirting with Sam, or something.”

Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg all burst out laughing, and Volstagg wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, giving him a hard shake. “That was quite the hilarious tale, but you say the word, and we’ll make sure this _Sam_ knows where he belongs.”

“Uh, that’s okay, big guy.” Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t kidding. “But thanks for the offer. Lucky for Sam, I like him. Steve could do worse.”

“True.” Fandral nodded at him. “He did pick you, after all.”

“Gee, thanks.” Bucky tried to sound affronted, but it was sort of lost behind the huffs of laughter. “Anyway!” He turned to Thor and rubbed his hands together. “I actually came over here because I’m caving. Hit me with it.” He held out his hand. “Where’s the whiskey?”

Thor smile grew, slow and sly. “And what, may I ask, has caused this change of heart?” He turned that smile on his friends. “Last time I checked, you were more than a little hesitant to imbibe again.”

All three of them had been at Bucky and Steve’s bachelor party, and all three were obviously in on whatever it was Bucky had no memory of. And he _should_ be irked at that, he should, but it was his wedding day, and nothing irked him today.

“See, the thing is, it’s a wedding,” Bucky made grabby hands at Thor, “and everyone _else_ is drinking and having a good time, and while I’m not looking to get drunk, I’d like to drink something that has at least a _little_ bit of an effect on me. Now gimme.”

Thor laughed and reached into his breast pocket. “I knew you would not be able to hold out.” He pulled out a small flask and grabbed an empty glass off the nearest table.

“Uh, whose glass is that?” Bucky asked.

“You are about to have some of the finest whiskey every produced on Asgard. Do you honestly care?”

That was an _excellent_ point. “No, not really,” Bucky responded with a shrug.

“I thought not.” Thor tipped the glass and poured smooth amber liquid into it. “As it is, it was my glass. And this was all that was in it, so you need not worry about flavors mixing. Now what’s that Midgardian saying? Ah, yes.” He held the glass out to Bucky, his smile absolutely wicked. “Bottom’s up.”

Bucky just shook his head and smiled. He took the glass and gave it a tiny sniff. “I’m not shooting this, Thor. I know how to actually enjoy the finer things.”

“What are we shooting?” Steve came up from behind and snaked an arm across Bucky’s shoulders. He leaned over and took a sniff of Bucky’s glass. “Wait, is that —”

“Not enough to get drunk on?” Bucky finished. “Why, yes it is. And you’re drinking it with me.”

Before Steve could respond, though, Thor snatched the glass out of Bucky’s hand with a, “Oh, well, in that case...” and proceeded to empty the contents of the flask into the tumbler. He handed it back with a huge smile. _“Now_ you have enough to share.”

Bucky took it back with more than a little trepidation. The tumbler was full, almost to the brim. “I think Thor might be trying to kill us.”

“Actually, I think he’s testing our strength as warriors,” Steve mumbled back. “Pretty sure if we die, it means we weren’t that great at it.”

Bucky snorted as he took a small sip. It burned in all the right ways, just as he (sort of) remembered. He held the tumbler up in salute. “Uh, thanks for this, Thor. We’re just gonna...go...”

“Yeah, we have cake things to attend to,” Steve added.

“Yeah. Cake things.”

“Whatever you say, my friends.” Thor then reached into a _different_ pocket and pulled out _another_ flask. “But if you need more...” He waved the flask at them, and they took that as their cue.

They took off, weaving through the tables, making it as far as the edge of the dance floor — about as far away as they could get without _completely_ running away. They were men, after all.

“I swear to God, I just wanted a little,” Bucky protested, as he glanced at _all the alcohol._ “You know, I actually _would_ like to remember today.”

“No one said you had to drink it all, Buck.” Steve plucked the glass out of his hand and took his own sip. “After all, this is supposed to be for _both_ of us.”

“Drink it slowly?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Bucky took the glass back and took another sip. “So, you said something about cake?” He’d been looking forward to this part since dinner had ended.

Steve nodded toward Pepper. “Yeah, she said something about the next twenty minutes, so I came to find you.”

“Have you seen the cake yet?”

“No, but I’m excited. If it looks anything like that picture you sent, it’s gonna be beautiful.”

 _“And_ delicious. Those cupcakes, man...”

“I know!” Steve smacked him, and some of the amber liquid slipped over his metal fingers. He tried to scowl at Steve, but Steve just pulled him in close. He slowly took the glass from Bucky’s hand and set it on a table, then, slow as anything, took Bucky's fingers and slowly began to suck them clean. Bucky just stared, all annoyance out the window, _instantly_ turned on.

“Sorry, baby,” Steve murmured, the lying bastard, because he was not sorry _at all._ Not with _that_ look on his face.

“Uh huh,” Bucky answered, his traitorous brain shutting down all higher function as his eyes zeroed in on Steve licking across the pad if his middle finger before slipping over his ring finger. He slowly worked Bucky’s wedding ring off, swirled it around his tongue, then slid it back on, and pulled off with a wet _pop!_

Bastard wasn’t sorry _at all._

“No fair.” Bucky cleared his suddenly rough throat and began running sniper calculations through his head to make his pants a little less uncomfortable. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Who said I was trying to?” Steve responded, all guileful innocence. “I mean, we’re married now. All bets are off the table.”

 _“All_ bets?” Bucky stuck his hands in Steve’s back pockets and pulled him flush, close enough to grind against him without anyone noticing. The little gasp that escaped Steve’s lips made it _so_ worth it. He maintained eye-contact, and bit his lip, only to lean in just enough to flick his tongue across Steve’s bottom lip.

He could tell Steve was about two seconds away from finding the nearest closet when they were interrupted by Wanda and Pietro, who sidled up right next to them, practically from out of nowhere (which, knowing Pietro...).

“Aren’t you two supposed to be setting an example?” Wanda inquired, eyeing them, and the heat now traveling up Bucky’s face was for an entirely new reason. “You’re old and married now. You should act like it.”

“I think this _is_ their way of acting like it,” Pietro answered. He started to reach between them, but for once Bucky was faster, metal hand snatching him by the wrist.

“Sorry, kids, but that’s Asgardian whiskey, and I don’t care _how_ enhanced you are. You aren’t drinking _that.”_

“I think we can handle —”

“Sorry, agreeing with Bucky on this one,” Steve interjected, his eyes finally landing on Bucky, and they both took to smirking at each other. Jesus, Bucky fucking loved him. “You may not be a hundred percent normal human, but you also aren’t gods.” He slowly picked the tumbler up and took a sip. “Or super soldiers. Other than that, what can we do for you?”

“Oh, nothing,” Wanda said.

“We just saw you guys over here, being weird,” Pietro added.

“And we wanted to find out what had two old people —”

“— acting like this was the Red Light District —”

“— and if we should grab popcorn.”

“There’s may be a bet going around the tower —”

“— to who can outlast who.”

“Oh, we’re siding with Bucky, by the way.”

“Hey!” Steve scoffed and turned toward them, clearly affronted, even though Bucky was pretty sure the twins had just suggested there was a bet going on about his and Steve’s _sex life._

Wanda shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Sorry, Steve, but us children of the former USSR need to stick together.”

“He’s from _Brooklyn!”_ Steve exclaimed, aghast, and Bucky doubled over with laughter. He prayed someone somewhere, right now, was filming this.

He jostled Steve’s shoulder, even as he tried to get his breathing under control. “It’s okay, Stevie. If there really is a bet in regards to our sexual stamina, just think of all the sex we can have to prove how right these two are.”

Steve just knocked his hand off with a quiet snort. “You should _be_ so lucky, Barnes.”

The lights were turned up then, as the cake was wheeled out, and whatever conversation they were having died at the sight before them. The cake was _stunning,_ and Bucky was sure, the way his own breath caught was only matched at the slight inhale coming from next to him.

The picture at City Sweets hadn’t done the thing justice. It was a four-tier cake: soft, shimmery white, etched in silver, each layer a different style of art deco that, again, reminded him of the pictures from when they were kids. Bucky stole a glance at Steve; he could already see the wheels turning in that head of his, probably thinking of all the ways he was going to draw it.

Clint immediately slid up next to him. “So, what’s what?” he asked excitedly, and Bucky had to laugh. It was like the cake had been bought for Clint only, or something, the way he was acting.

“Well.” Bucky pointed at the top tier. “The top is that Red Devil, because Steve really did love it, which means that one’s just for us.” He leaned into the soft lips pressed into his hair, and smiled. “Next down, we have the chocolate stout everyone loved, then carrot chiffon, and finally” — he bumped lightly into Clint — “the entire bottom is the wild strawberry.”

Clint completely lit up. _“Seriously?”_

“Just for you, buddy,” Bucky confirmed. “Figured you’d put away more cake than anyone here — Thor and the rest of the Asgard crew included — and no way was I going to deny you after seeing how disappointed you were at the cost of a cake from there. I know how to take care of my friends.”

“Is that your way of saying the carrot chiffon is for Natasha?”

Bucky shrugged and gave Clint a knowing smile. Natasha was notorious for her love of carrot cake.

“If I could have the married couple, please!” Pepper spoke up from where the cake had been set up by the dance floor. She smiled at them expectantly, and Bucky started walking toward her, only to be pulled back.

He turned and frowned at Steve, who’s own face was unreadable. “Stevie?”

Steve just continued to stare at the cake, finally letting out a frustrated huff before he turned to face Bucky. “How would you feel about _not_ taking those fake posing photos with the cake?”

That pulled Bucky up short. “You mean no cake pictures? I don’t understand.”

Steve glanced at the cake again. “The thing is, I actually hate those stupid poses where you stand over the cake with a knife, like you’re pretending to cut into it. It just feels so _false._ I mean, right now, everything has had such a beautiful flow, and I can’t see how this will. Besides, if it’s not something I’m going to want to paint, I don’t see the point in wasting our time.”

Bucky had to agree. The day had been perfect so far, and considering they hadn’t planned on doing _any_ of this, it did sort of feel like a disruption just for the sake of some tradition. Plus, like Steve, Bucky had no interest in posing for photos that served no purpose.

Of course, that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t fuck with him.

“So, no shoving cake in each other’s face?” Bucky asked, turning up the puppy dog look, all wide-eyed and sad. “And no getting to play with knives?”

“I mean, I guess if you _want_ to...”

Bucky snickered and kissed him again. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’ve never been a fan of those pictures either.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve breathed, relief coloring his smile. Ever the artist, genuinely upset at the idea of deliberately bad pictures. And Bucky thought _he_ was vain.

“Oh, perfect,” Pepper started as they walked up. She waved over Liz, their photographer. “Okay, boys, I’m just going to need you to stand here and Liz will —”

Bucky placed a hand on her arm and smiled at her. “Actually, there’s been a change of plan.”

She arched a perfect eyebrow. “A change of plan?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, and they glanced at each other. “So, the thing is, we’re not really fans of the whole ‘fake cake cutting’ photos.”

“So, we don’t want to take them,” Bucky finished.

“You don’t want to take them.”

“No, ma’am.” Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if he should be afraid of Pepper right now, after all the world she’d put in, so ‘ma’am’ just seemed safer.

But Pepper, to her unfailing credit, just shrugged. “It’s your party,” she said, and checked something off on the tablet she was carrying. “Is there anything you _do_ want to do before we cut into this?”

“Uh, well...” Bucky glanced over at Steve. “I guess some photos of just the cake, with the park here at night as the backdrop? Would that work?”

Steve smiled kind of dopily at him. “That would be really pretty. And make for a gorgeous painting,” he added.

Bucky puffed up a little. “Thought so.”

“Well, all right, then!” Pepper turned toward the crowd. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, it seems there’s been a change of plans. Steve and Bucky won’t be cutting into the cake tonight. As it is, cake serving will commence in” — she glanced down at her watch — “about ten minutes.

 _“WHAT?”_ Clint exclaimed, turning to Bucky and Steve, betrayal written all over his face. _“Ten minutes?”_

“You’ll live,” Steve and Bucky shot back, in perfect unison. They cracked up and Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling him onto the dance floor as _Sinister Kid_ started blasting out of the speakers. He had ten minutes to work up an appetite.

~~~~

The staircase was small, but grand, split into two, and leading up to the second floor of the boathouse, a beautiful painting of a stream nestled between the two sets of stairs. Both sides had an elegant stand on the first step with a sign reading YOU SHALL NOT PASS, and Bucky snorted.

“Tony’s rubbing off on Pepper,” he said and nodded at the sign. “Think we should intervene?”

“What? No!” Steve laughed and took Bucky’s hand. They quietly slipped passed the sign and slowly ascended the stairs, careful to keep an eye out for the lady in question. Knowing her, guests of honor or not, she’d still chide them both for heading upstairs and make them come back down. “I mean, she’s quoting _Lord of the Rings._ It could be worse; she could be quoting Juvenile.”

“Pepper would _never.”_

“No, but Tony totally would.”

“Fair point.”

They reached the main landing and ascended the single staircase that led up to the second floor. He’d asked Pepper earlier why they weren’t utilizing the second floor, and she’d mentioned the place was constructional chaos. True to her word, it was a jumbled debris of tarps, two-by-fours, paint cans, and a smattering of tools. The Preservation Society seemed to do a reno on this place every twenty years or so, and Bucky guessed it was time. He was starting to wonder how many different gods he needed to thank that the ground floor at least had been done. If not, after the mess with the Botanical Gardens, he and Steve probably wouldn’t be married right now. They would have had to postpone.

Bucky pulled up short in the middle of the room, dark save for the soft golden glow coming from the last vestiges of their wedding down below. He gave a small tug on Steve’s hand and pulled him in, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, Stevie?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Are you —” He stopped and huffed, the mess of the room all he could see. Soft lips pressed into his hair. “Are you glad we did this today? That we didn’t wait? I mean, if we’d waited, then maybe we could have also used this space, wouldn’t have had to deal with a room full of rubble —”

Steve leaned back and took Bucky’s face in hand, his eyes intent. “Bucky, you’re my _husband_ now, do you get that? We’re _married.”_

“I know we are...?”

Steve smiled, and suddenly those lips were on his, warm and certain, and Bucky _melted._ Whimpered when Steve bit down, the kiss growing more fervent as they gripped onto each other, Bucky’s nails dug into Steve’s back as he licked into Steve’s mouth, deepening the kiss. It was all he could do not to start rutting up against him right here and now.

They tore away after a few moments, both panting and laughing against the other’s lips.

“Still don’t...know what you meant there, Stevo,” Bucky gasped, then wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, just to find a better way to hold him close. He’d hold Steve forever, God willing.

Steve kissed him again, light and sweet. “What I mean is, even if we’d gotten married today in the middle of that warzone up off 37th —”

“You mean the construction job that knows no end?”

“The very same,” Steve affirmed with a small laugh. “If we’d gone there today, amidst that disaster, with just us, Tony, and maybe Nat and Sam, that would have been enough. We could have gone today and signed some papers in front of a judge at City Hall, and it would have been enough.” He kissed Bucky again. “You’re enough. You’re all I need, and honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass how or where we got married. All that matters is that we are. You’re my _husband,_ Bucky. We actually fucking made it.”

They had, they really had. It didn’t matter, this grandiose wedding. He would be thanking Pepper and Nat, and all of their friends, until the end of days for making this all happen for them, especially on such short notice, but that wasn’t the point — hadn’t ever really _been_ the point. They had been through _so_ much in their lives, that to get to this — to not just be together, but to actually _be married_ — wasn’t just the ultimate end game, but probably the greatest gift he could ever hope for in his life. There was so much horror in his past; it was unfathomable to think he’d ever get to be here, and yet, here he was, married to his soulmate, their future stretched out endless. Sure, there would be danger ahead but, like Steve had promised in his vows, even that didn’t matter. Their lives — _all_ their lives — were meant to be together. And even if this one, God forbid, was cut short, Bucky _knew_ they’d find each other in the next one. It was a knowledge like truth, now. The two of them just _belonged._

“We did make it, didn’t we.”

“Yeah, we did.”

It really _was_ the best gift Bucky could ever possibly have been given.

They stepped carefully across the room to lean against the balcony that overlooked the deck below and lake beyond. Steve hooked his arm with Bucky’s and leaned his head on Bucky’s shoulder. They stayed like that, watching the few friends who were still going strong — Nat and Sam dancing while Clint ate his way through who knew what number slice of cake (Bucky made a mental note to buy him one for his birthday). Then there was, of course, the entirety of the party from Asgard, looking like they were nowhere near letting up. Maria and Pepper were leaning against a table, chatting and sipping champagne, while Tony and Bruce stood next them, yet _again_ in one of their intense discussions. Bucky didn’t even need to hear it to know they were probably plotting their next stab at world domination. No rest for those two.

It punched something inside Bucky, right in the heart. He really did have the best friends in the world — and standing right here next to him, was the absolute love of his life. Bucky really _was_ just about the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

Steve spoke up after a while. “So, hey, Buck?”

Bucky turned and placed a small kiss against the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Yes, my husband?”

Steve side-eyed him, his smile mischievous as he nodded down at their friends. “Thought you might like to know that when you were bumming booze off of Thor, I cornered Sif.”

“Yeah?”

“Turns out our bachelor party pact was only made among our immediate friends. They, uh, may have _missed_ a few people.”

“Yeah...?”

Steve turned to him, a smile dancing wickedly on his lips. He took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it, and Bucky could feel the skin-warm ring pressing against his own fingers. A promise. Forever.

“I know what happened on Asgard.”

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> And it's done! That's it, kids. It's finished, complete, donezo, at an end, all the things. So now for the most important part, some thank yous:
> 
> A special thank you to petite-madame for her constant blessing, help and support when it comes to writing in this universe. Also for the gorgious artwork at the beginning.
> 
> Also, my undying love and thank you to [brendaonao3](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/) for all of her many _many_ beta notes, her cheerleading, her willingness to be a sounding board and punching bag when it came to hurtling story ideas at her, and for just being her. I owe her more than she could ever know.
> 
> And most of all, to all of you. Thank you for reading. Our boys needed an epic wedding story, and I am absolutely tickled that I got to write it (and finish it!) for you. Thanks for stopping by, and be sure to check back for more in [_The Life of Bucky Barnes_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3376088/chapters/7384379). We're definitely not done there yet! MUAH!  
>  ~~~~
> 
> Feel free to come play with me on tumblr at [stephrc79](http://www.stephrc79.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I promise I don't bite. Well, not unless you ask nicely.  
> ~~~~
> 
> All the artwork for [petite-madame's](http://petite-madame.tumblr.com) _The Life of Bucky Barnes_ can be found here on [Instagram](http://instagram.com/the_life_of_bucky_barnes/), and here on [Tumblr](http://the-life-of-bucky-barnes.tumblr.com). Enjoy!


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